Pretty Lies and Ugly Truths
by britbojangles
Summary: My life has been a whirlwind of high rises and pitfalls. My name is Kurt Hummel and this is the story of the ridicule I endured, the revenge I sought, and the redemption I hope to receive.
1. Chapter 1

Months ago, when this was just an idea in my head and I was explaining the obvious Islamic overtones Disney placed in Aladdin to the five year old that hung around our studio, I never imagined that I would be where I am now. I'm soaking wet and the man of my dreams just walked away from me. I am heartbroken over the fact that he left, but it is my own fault. This is my doing and no one else's.

0o0o0

This entire mess started with a piece of mail. It actually during high school but my current situation stems from a letter that my best friend -and business partner- received a few months ago. It was from Mrs. Quinn Fabray-Johnson.

_Dear Sam Evans,_

_High school was a magical time for all of us. It was full of laughter and happiness. It was also quite a while ago. Ten years to be exact. In the past decade we have all moved on. We have taken what this world has to offer us and made lives and names for ourselves. Now it is time for us to come together again. Please join us for the ten year reunion of the William McKinley High School class of 2012. It will be held on May 25, 2022 at Breadsticks, in Lima._

_RSVP with your name and the name of your plus one to Quinn Fabray-Johnson, DDS. Contact information enclosed._

_Sincerely,_

_Mrs. Quinn Fabray–Johnson, DDS_

Sam read the letter over my shoulder. It was his mail but I always opened his mail. He never opened mine but I always opened his. It was part of our dynamic. He respected my privacy and I pretended that his did not exist. Hell, Sam pretended that his privacy did not exist. He put his business out for the world to see while I hid mine away in a tiny box that I kept tightly guarded with all my might.

"Are you going?" Sam asked me as I reread the letter. I chuckled. Was I going? What kind of question was that?

"Umm...no. I didn't get an invitation." I replied as I neatly refolded the letter. I did not expect an invitation.

Sam snatched the folded letter from me before spinning me around on the stool that I was accustomed to sitting on. It was a high stool and it made me feel powerful. "Your invitation is probably in the mail, dude."

Again I chuckled. "Probably not. I'm pretty sure everyone we went to high school with think I'm dead...or in jail...or that I died while in jail. Even the ones that believe that I am alive will not expect me to show up to a high school reunion. Everyone hated me in high school." The statement was mostly true. Sam never hated me. Sam was always an exception to the rule.

"Whatever, man. When your invitation comes in the mail I'm going to laugh in your face and then we are going to RSVP together. We can be each other's plus ones." The statement made no sense. Why would we be each other's plus ones if we each had an invitation? I chose not to point out that fact to Sam. Instead, I offered him a kind smile and a short nod.

0o0o0

"I can't stay long today, Mr. Hummel. I have plans." Amanda was one of my most promising students. She was also one of my least dedicated students. I began giving vocal lessons a few years after my graduation from New York's premiere performing arts school. After a few runs in various off Broadway plays, I decided to settle back into what I knew best; singing. I loved acting but singing was my passion.

I pulled the black, thick framed reading glasses that were perched on the bridge of my nose down so that I could look at her over them. "Why not, Amanda?" The girl squirmed from foot to foot under my disapproving gaze. If there was one thing I learned from my aunt, it was how to look at someone with the utmost disapproval. I should call that bitch and thank her for teaching me at least one thing I could use in my life.

"Ummm...well..."

"Spit it out Amanda."

"The new Nightbird comic is coming out today and the creator is going to be at Midtown Comics for the release. I have to be there. I have to meet him." I did my best not to groan. It was one thing to deal with Sam and his unwavering love for comic books -he payed half the rent for this studio after all- but it was another thing to deal with it from a student. I could see Amanda's mother now. She would go in one of two directions with the situation and neither would work out in my favor.

_'Since Amanda did not receive a full lesson, I do not believe that you should receive a full hour's pay.'_

To which, I would have replied that she could take her Park Avenue ass elsewhere. Sam and I had a very strict policy where lessons were concerned. Unless the lesson was missed because of something on our end, then we required full payment for it. The only exception to that rule was if it was cancelled within forty -eight hours.

'Why did you let her leave? I paid you for the hour.'

If Amanda's mother took that route, I would have told her that I was not a babysitter -_at least not for the older students. There were some 'fun in the summer' bitches that brought their young children to me for lessons. I was often their teacher and babysitter_- and that she should teach her daughter not to toss aside obligations for comic books. I would have then thrown in an additional 'bitch' and rolled my neck to add emphasis.

I rolled my eyes at the girl. She was seventeen and her ballet flats cost more than the rent of my apartment. She was everything I wished I was in high school. She was popular, smart, and she always had a new boyfriend. On top of that, she was talented. She had a voice that rivaled the greats and she knew it. "Don't roll your eyes, Mr. Hummel. I'll still have my mother pay you. I know you need the money." She was also a bitch. In that respect, she and I were on an even playing court...field...whatever.

"Oh, your mother will most definitely pay me." I insisted as I flipped through the latest edition of Vogue. I could feel her staring at the side of my head. She was waiting for us to begin but she did not want to bring up the fact on the off chance that I had the power to keep her from her precious comic book. "You may leave now. If you're not going to stay for the entire lesson then we might as well not start." I could see her smiling out of the side of my eye. She thought she'd won. "And since you don't have the time today, you probably won't have the time tomorrow. Don't bother showing up again until at least Wednesday." Despite her lack of dedication, Amanda seemed perplexed by my cancellation of the next day's class. "And, yes, your mother will pay me for that class as well. Good bye."

Amanda stood for a moment before turning and stomping out the front door. When she was gone, I shook my head. She had a million opportunities and she threw them all away. If I had ever been in her shoes, I would have cherished them all. I resigned to the fact that not all people were like me. In fact, most people weren't.

0o0o0

Sam raced into the shop not long after Amanda left. "Dude, have you seen my wallet?" He asked as he rushed past me. He was in a hurry but I had no idea why.

"Nice to see you too. And no, I have not seen your wallet." Sam groaned as he continued to pull out draw after draw behind our front counter. Day in and day out I wondered why we had the counter built. _**'Oh Thank Hevans'**_ was a musical training studio, not a retail store. The only products we offered were our talents. Sam taught his students how to play the guitar and I taught mine how to use whatever voice they had and how to play the piano. Our tiny shop sat in a nicer part of Brooklyn and everyone knew what we did. None of what we did required a counter, yet, we had one.

"Why are you in such a rush?" I asked my business partner. He seemed frantic.

"I have to go into the city and I need my fucking wallet. God, I'm late. I'm going to be so late and I'm going to miss it."

"Miss what?" What was Sam going to miss? What was I missing?

"Nightbird." Oh for fuck's sake. Really? I had a hard time believing that mania that caused Amanda to miss her lesson had also reached Sam. What the hell was a Nightbird anyway? An owl. As far as I knew, they were nocturnal. "It's a big deal. This series has ballooned overnight. A few months ago Blaine Anderson was a nobody and now he's huge in this world. You have no idea."

Sam had no idea. He had no idea that I stopped listening the second he named the comic's creator. "Did you say Blaine Anderson?" I asked, hoping that he hadn't.

My friend nodded. God dammit! "Yeah, why?"

"Blaine Anderson?" I tried again. I hoped that his Blaine Anderson was not the same Blaine Anderson that I assumed it to be.

"Yeah."

"Blaine ANDERSON?"

"Ummm...yeah!"

"BLAINE ANDERSON?"

"Yeah, dude. That's his name and he's going to be at-"

"Midtown Comics. I know, I've been advised. You seem to be missing the point though. Is this the Blaine Anderson that we know?" I pointed between the two of us. "Or is this some other Blaine Anderson. I'm sure the name may be common."

Sam shot me a perplexed look. If Sam wasn't my best friend then I would not associate with him. I love him to pieces but his crayon is not very bright in comparison with the others. "I could ask him if we know him?" It was a question. God Bless Sam Evans and his tiny, tiny brain.

"Small guy, huge ego. Kicker for the Titans 2008 through 2012. All around douche bag." I hoped that my vivid description would help Sam remember. I didn't; mostly because Sam didn't want it to.

My friend shook his head. "Absolutely not. The kicker for the football team was a huge jerk. Blaine Anderson is awesome. It couldn't be him." If only Sam understood. He only knew the team's kicker was a jerk because I told him. Had I not opened my mouth, my friend would have continued with his life without a care in the world. I, on the other hand, would have continued to brave the wicked halls of high school alone. "Found it."

Sam held up his wallet in triumph. "I'll ask Blaine if he went to McKinley but I'm sure he didn't. Nobody as cool as him could have ever been a jerk in high school. Ever." As I'd done with Amanda, I rolled my eyes and turned my attention to Vogue.

"Whatever, bye."

"Love you like a brother, Kurt." Sam shouted as he walked out the front door.

I smirked despite myself. "You too." I hollered back. He was already gone.

0o0o0

Marley was my final lesson of the day. She had a natural voice and the type of bubbly personality that made me both enjoy and loathe the time I spent with her. She was always nice. She reminded me of myself years ago. People tended to walk over Marley, to pass her by, and she let them. Her classmates often spoke down to her because she was from a single parent home and her mother was not wealthy. She let them. It infuriated me. I wanted Marley to stand up for herself. I wanted her to fight back because I never had. She wouldn't.

'_You get more with sugar than you do with salt.' _She often told me. Yeah, until they punch you in the face. Then you've got a broken fucking nose. Trust me. I knew.

Marley sat her book bag down on the ground and joined me at the counter. Again, I never understood why Sam and I spent hard earned money on it. Maybe it was so Marley and I could sit at it. "My mom said thank you for letting her wait until next week to pay you. We appreciate it." I smiled at her. If Marley's mother wasn't so hardheaded, then we would not have had an issue. When I first learned of the Rose's financial hardships I offered to teach Marley for free. Her mother refused. It pissed me off. I held the belief that all people -regardless of financial standing- deserved access to art. She should have taken the offer.

Instead, Miss Rose asked if we could work out a payment plan. I agreed. In exchange for lessons, Marley cleaned the studio once a week -her suggestion. Her mother then paid the other half of the tuition for her vocal lessons. It was an agreement that never sat well with me but I was not one to push. At least not in situations as such.

"It's never a problem. Tell her if she wasn't so damn proud she wouldn't have these issues." I replied. I marked my page in Vogue -it was a new issue and I had to read it cover to cover without skipping a page- before turning to my student. "How about we warm up?"

Marley nodded excitedly. Together we warmed our voices. We ran scales and made silly noises until we were ready to move further into our lesson. "Alright...so what do you want to- what's wrong?" I cut myself off the second I noticed the sullen look on her face.

She held her phone up. I hated when my pupils used their phones during our lessons. It was a complete waste of time. Couldn't they see the opportunity they were squandering away? No. Obviously not.

I took the phone and stared at the screen.

**Guess who met Blaine Anderson and who didn't. -unknown**

There was a picture attached. I opened it. Smiling face to face, cheek to cheek, were Amanda and my arch nemesis. Blaine fucking Anderson. Apparently, the creator of one of the hottest comic books in -I'm not sure how long they've been hot because I don't read them- was indeed one of my high school tormentors. Son of a bitch!

I handed Marley her phone back. "I didn't know you and Amanda were friends." I stated flatly. My mind was elsewhere. Blaine Anderson. God, the name alone made me shit fire. I hated him.

"We're not. She's just rubbing it in my face. I didn't have enough money on my Metrocard to go into the city _and _come here for lessons before going home. So, I chose my priority. It's not like I could have purchased the comic book anyways. She didn't even know about the signing until she heard me talking about it." With every word Marley spoke, I despised Amanda more. Maybe I could cancel Thursday's lesson as well. Her mother would pay for that one too.

"Don't worry about it." I stated. "Amanda is being a bitch." I needed to stop referring to women as bitches. I did not believe that all women were bitches; my mother, for example, was a beautiful soul. I simply believed that most of the women _I_ knew were bitches. There was a huge difference. "And Blaine Anderson is not all he's cracked up to be. Trust me."

I felt Marley's stare fixated on the side of my head. "Are you kidding me?" She asked lamely. Obviously not. I wouldn't have said it if I was joking. "Blaine Anderson is a beautiful human being." For the love of Christ, not her too. I hated thinking that, just like in high school, Blaine had weaseled his way into another person's heart. "He gives so much of his money to charity and...he's just great. Did you know that, after he and his boyfriend, Dave, broke up, Blaine still gave generously to Dave's LGBT foundation. It was-" Okay..whoa. I needed someone to hold the phone. I needed them to hold the phone and they were not allowed to put it down until I said so.

Boyfriend?

Gay bashing Blaine Anderson had a boyfriend? An ex-boyfriend but...fuck it. Who cared? The point was that Blaine Anderson played for my team after years of making fun of me for playing for a team that he claimed was different than his own. That was a confusing thought.

"Kurt, are you okay?" Marley asked. Her voice was weary.

I shook my head. I was not. "Ummm...can we reschedule? In fact, tell your mother I cancelled and that she doesn't have to pay for this week's lessons. We'll meet back here tomorrow." I replied absently. I needed to think.

"Umm...yeah." Marley sounded a bit saddened by my sudden cancellation.

I hopped off my stool quickly and fished my wallet out of my back pocket. "Here's some cash. Go meet that assh- I mean...that Blaine. Take a great picture with him and then send it to everyone that made fun of you for not being able to go. It's the least I can do for cancelling on you without notice. I'm sorry." I wasn't, not really, but I didn't want her to know that. I just wanted her out of the studio. I had research to do.

"I can't-"

"Take it or don't step foot in this studio again." Helping Marley was my way of helping myself. I didn't have an adult in my life to do for me when I was Marley's age. I wanted to be the person to her that I always wished that my teenage self had for me. Another confusing thought. I was getting good at confusing myself. It was Blaine's fault. Asshole.

I handed Marley a twenty and shoved her out the front door. I waited until she was closer to the subway than to my shop door before closing the door and locking it. I switched the sign from 'open' to 'closed' and bolted back to my chair.

Minutes later I had my iPad out and I was gawking at it. I could not believe what I was reading. Better yet, I could not believe what I was seeing.

_Nightbird comic creator Blaine Anderson and company give generously to LGBT charity._

The headline pissed me off. Any form of the word 'generous' should not have been in a sentence with the name Blaine Anderson.

It was the picture below that caused my jaw to drop and my eyes to pop out of their sockets. The picture was of Blaine, Dave Karofsky, and Sebastian Smythe. The Trifecta of Pain as I referred to them in high school.

Each looked ten years older but just as pretentious. I hated them. All of them.

I continued reading.

_Anderson, pictured with ex-boyfriend David Karofsky-_

Whoa...what the-? Really? David was gay as well? Where the hell had I been during high school? How did I not know that? I supposed that it was difficult to rationalize when my head was being slammed into a locker.

I scanned the rest of the article. My mind was blown once again. This time, it was by a quote from Sebastian.

"_As a gay man-"_ Okay stop. I soon realized that I was being Punk'd. There was no way that Dave, Blaine, and Sebastian were gay.

I closed the page and packed my iPad away. My world tilted on its axis and the only way to return it to its natural equilibrium was to get unrealistically wasted.

The night I drank so much Tequila that I passed out on my living room floor. With the exception of my wicked hangover, it was the best night I'd had in a while.

0o0o0

Two weeks later, my class reunion invitation still hadn't arrived. I hadn't thought about it once since the day Sam's arrived. I couldn't. My mind was elsewhere.

I'd spent two weeks researching Blaine Anderson, David Karofsky, and Sebastian Smythe.

As I knew, Blaine was a comic book success. Nightbird was apparently setting records and the artist -I hated calling him that because I respected artists and I had zero respect for him- was living the high life. His fans loved him. Everyone loved him. Just like in high school. Asshole.

Dave ran a charity. The Hope House was a safe haven for gay youth throughout the city. He'd received many awards and huge pats on the back from many high profile celebrities and politicians. They called him a 'beautiful person' and 'someone to be admired'. Apparently, they did not know Dave the way I knew him. It made me sick. Also, the thought of he and Blaine...that made me even more nauseous. But it was true. They'd dated for a year before an amicable split.

Then there was Sebastian. He was a sideline person in the matter. He was simply in the picture as an old friend of both Blaine and Dave's. He was not a huge comic book personality -as Blaine was- and he did not run a charity like Dave. Finding information on him was much harder than finding it on the other two.

Based on the little information I did dig up, I found out that Sebastian was a family man. He and his husband, a man named Chandler, had a son and lived on Staten Island. Sebastian was an accountant and his husband was a school teacher.

"Whatcha' doin?" I jumped at the sound of Sam's voice. I hadn't expected him though I didn't know why. We alternated sessions at the studio and it was not my time to be there.

"Nothing." I squeaked, dragging my overloaded mind away from my thoughts; my plans. For years, I imagined how I would get my high school bullies back for what they'd done to me. I swore I'd seek revenge for everything they put me through. During the two weeks that passed from the time Blaine Anderson's name entered my life again until the second Sam asked me what I was doing, I plotted and schemed. I dreamed of ways to get back at the men for hurting me and then chastised myself for having such thoughts. At the end of the day, however, I knew what I wanted; knew what I needed. I needed to show them how it felt to be publically torn down. I needed them to know what it felt like to have all eyes on them in the worst possible way. And I knew just how to do it.

"Hey, Sam. My invitation never came." Sam choked on the water he was sipping. He'd completely forgotten that I'd never received one.

"Oh..."

"Yeah, but I want to go. It would be nice to see everyone again. We've all changed, ya know." I was speaking solely about myself. I'd changed quite a bit from high school to then. I'd lost the extra sixty pounds of weight that my peers once teased me about, I'd grown six inches, and I'd started working out. I was slim, toned, and my voice was even deeper. I made puberty my bitch.

"Can I be your plus one?" I batted my eyelashes -not that it actually worked on Sam. I liked to think it did. "Please. I just want to..." I wanted to what? Put my super villain plan into effect? Yeah...mostly. "See everyone."

Sam shot me a skeptical look. He knew how I felt about our fellow McKinley alum.

"Ummmm...sure...whatever dude." I screamed inside my head. I couldn't wait. Payback was a bitch and Kurt Hummel was an even bigger one.

0o0o0

**A/N: A million thanks to Windsor for beta'ing this. For those who do not know, this will be my last story. Life is growing busier by the day and I believe it is time to move on and focus on those things. ADULT THINGS. Uggg...being an adult sucks!**

**Fear not, readers, I will continue every story that is in progress at this point. I simply will not be starting any new ones. **

**Let me know what you think. **


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Chapter two. A bit of Kurt's past. **

**Warnings: Offensive language, physical violence, bullying, character death. **

**Gahhh…that looks horrible. Fear not, this is not an angsty story. **

0o0o0

High school was tough for me. T-u-f-f as Sam spelled it when he was drunk. In fact, most of my life was tough but my father refused to allow me to dwell on the things I'd lost in my few short years on Earth.

_There are always people less fortunate than you, Kurt_.

My father never let me forget that. When the grief of losing my mother overtook me, my father took me to meet children without mothers or fathers. He never let me forget that, despite always feeling behind the curve, I still had one parent that loved me more than both of some people's parents. My father was amazing in that sense. In the years we had together, my father loved me and accepted me unconditionally. I knew I would never forget those feelings; not as long as I lived.

Some days those remembered feelings were all I had.

I lost my father the summer between middle school and high school. He often pretended to live on the wild side of life, but I knew otherwise. My father never drank, he never smoked, and he ate as healthy as a single man could. He went on morning jogs before the sun rose and he and I walked until the sun set. Regardless of how cautious he was, my father could not protect us from everything.

One night my father took me to the movies. We saw 'The Dark Knight'. Though my father's tough exterior did not draw attention to it, he was a huge Batman fan. As a child he sat glued through his television set once a week to watch Batman on television. Sometimes I swore he loved Adam West more than he loved my mother or me. He was fixated on the man and the character he portrayed.

I, on the other hand, could not wait to see Christian Bale. My father always knew I was gay and he did his best to raise me with the understanding that it was a normal, acceptable part of life. It was a fantasy. A majority of the people I met did not believe that I was normal or that my behavior was acceptable. Luckily for me, in our two bedroom house on Whitman Avenue, every version of myself was acceptable and welcome. I was truly a lucky young man; for a while at least.

_**Community is MADD over Drunk Driving Death**_**. **

Daryl Watson -I knew I would never forget his name- hit our car head on late that evening. The last thing I remembered was my dad asking if I wanted to go to New York with him for business.

"_It will only be for the weekend and I'll be working Saturday morning. The afternoon and Sunday would be yours though. We could go see sites and I could get us tickets to that play you always talk about. How about it, kiddo?"_

I never got the chance to tell him my answer. Milliseconds later, glass was shattering around us and tires were squealing. I must have blacked out at some point because the next thing I remembered was the sounds of people shouting around me.

Through the noise, I heard someone mention our tires.

"_If their tires weren't so good then we could have had two deaths on our hand. Top of the line."_

The thought made me smile despite the fact that my entire body hurt. My father worked for Goodyear. He travelled around the country to different shops and checked the quality of the Goodyear tires they kept in stock. My father loved his job and would have been pleased to hear that the tires on his truck were up to par. I was certain that he already knew they were great but it never hurt to have a bit of confirmation.

I was not advised of my father's passing until a few days later when my aunt arrived at the hospital. She was my father's older sister and I knew she was a cold hearted bitch before I knew what a cold hearted bitch was.

"_Your father is dead you will live with me_."

That bitch!

When I was released from the hospital -my injuries were minor thanks to our impeccable tires- I indeed went to live with her. Throughout my first few weeks with her, my life began to change. I was questioned by the police and I buried my father. I fought tooth and nail to make sure his plot was as close to my mother's as possible. If I had my way, they would have dug her up and put the two in the same casket. The funeral home refused but I tried none the less.

Daryl's trial was a few weeks later. If Lima, Ohio offered nothing else to its citizens, it offered a speedy trial. I couldn't say the trial was very fair, however; at least not to me. Daryl was given a six year sentence with time served. He killed my father while driving drunk and he would only serve six years for the crime. I did not feel that was fair at all. Apparently, neither did my aunt.

That bitch moaned and groaned about the burden of raising someone else's child due to the negligence of others for weeks. After her second local television interview on the matter, The Mothers Against Drunk Driving, became involved. They helped that bitch hire a lawyer and sued Daryl's family in a civil case; a civil case that we won.

That bitch couldn't have been more pleased...until she found out that the large sum of money that was being paid by Daryl's family would go to me. My father made great money with Goodyear but his salary was not even a fraction of what the wealthy Watson family was doling out to me. The MADD lawyer, my aunt, and I met with the Watson family and their lawyers a few times. Against my aunt's will, it was decided that I would receive the money in staggered amounts until my thirtieth birthday. The Watsons were very remorseful over my loss and also offered to pay for my college education. The trade was not fair -my father's life for my future financial security- but it was the hand that I was dealt.

Throughout the remainder of the summer, that bitch complained off and on about the cost of raising me, though she received monthly checks from my father's life insurance policy to help with my care. She also complained about my behavior -she often forgot that I grew up in a very liberated household- and my attitude.

_You are a frustrating you man, Kurt Hummel. Sometimes I feel like I could hate you but then I remember that hate is not a Christianly way to feel. _

I _hated_ to break it to her but she was not a Christianly woman. She was a bitch and I made sure to express my _hate_ for her at least once a day.

0o0o0

The first day of my freshman year of high school was the day I realized that I would be serving a sentence for a crime that I did not commit. The day was awful. Unlike most of my peers, I was not dressed in new clothes. My aunt refused to take me school shopping because I told her I hated her. I never understood why she was so surprised. She and I had the same conversation day in and day out. She commented on something or spoke of my parents in a way that I did not feel was appropriate -the scars of losing my father were still fresh at that point- and I told her I hated her. She should have been used to it.

New clothes -or lack of- aside, my day was horrible. I got lost twice -my aunt refused to take me to open house so I was completely oblivious to the school's layout. I stopped a few times to ask for help but teachers and students alike just bristled past me in the direction of wherever they were headed. No one paid me any mind. I was late for two of my four classes because I had no idea where I was from one moment to the next.

Lunch was the climactic moment of my day. It was the moment that cemented my place in my class's social ladder. I exited the lunch line with my tray in hand. My day was gloomy but I kept my head high. It was something I learned from my father. He told me to never let a day get me down so much that I hung my head. So I didn't. I squared my shoulders and looked around the cafeteria.

I made no friends in middle school. Most of my free time was spent in the library or with my father. At the time it seemed like a good idea. In hindsight, I realized my mistake. Without a friend to my name, I did not have anyone to share lunch with. That left me with two options: I could eat alone and show everyone how pathetic I was or I could waltz up to a table and ask to eat with them. I chose the latter.

I scanned the room nervously. I saw a group of cheerleaders hugging and talking excitedly about whatever boring plans they'd made for the weekend. I may have been brave enough to tell my aunt that I hated her but I was not brave enough -or stupid enough- to ask the queens of the social ladder for a seat. I continued to look for more viable options.

My eyes landed on a group of misfits next. They were all laughing and singing loudly, causing quite the commotion in the cafeteria. They seemed liked a reasonable option. No two occupants of the table looked alike. They were a melting pot of differences. I hoped they would let me sit with them. I wanted to melt in their pot.

I began to make my way over to their table. Unbeknownst to me, someone else was heading their way as well. I stopped just short of the table and began to ask if I could sit with them. As I opened my mouth, a group of young men in letterman jackets surrounded the table and dumped their drinks of heads of the table's occupants. It was the car accident all over again.

Rather than dwelling on what happened, I turned quickly on my heel and scurried away. Apparently their melting pot was not a well-liked one and I did not need more drama to add to the growing pile I already had.

I weaved between tables in search of a place to sit. On one particular scan of the room, something caught my eye. A boy. From a distance I could see the boy's giant, golden eyes and they were lit up like the stars. He had a giant smile on his face and a large group of friends. I wanted to sit with him. He was beautiful and I wanted to be as close to him as possible. So, I went. I made a beeline for the table without a second thought.

"Can I sit with you?" I asked, earning the attention of the boy and his friends. I had no idea when I got so brave but there it was. I went straight for the kill. I was momentarily grateful that my mouth worked of its own volition because I knew I wouldn't have asked if I'd actually stopped and thought about it. I would have chickened out; just like I had at the last table.

The boy stared at me for a moment, seemingly studying me. "He doesn't want you sitting next to him, faggot!" The shout came from the large boy sat just behind the boy. I bristled instantly as the cafeteria came to halt. All eyes were on us.

A scrawny boy with the face of a jungle animal -meerkat, definitely a meerkat- began to laugh from across the table. Apparently, the laughter was contagious because, before too long, the entire table was laughing at me. "Yeah, I don't want you here." The boy with the golden eyes hissed. I was mortified. I'd completely embarrassed myself on the first day of high school. My life was over.

With my head still held high -though my heart was heavy- I turned towards the door and stalked out of the cafeteria. That day and every day of my freshman I ate lunch in the bathroom stall.

0o0o0

My freshman year was rough, but the show did not truly begin until I was a sophomore. That was when the real bullying started.

As with most things in life, my abuse started small. Dave Karofsky -the boy that called me a faggot- was the ringleader; or so I thought. Every day as I headed to lunch, Dave would toss a slushie at me. Everyone saw and no one helped. They all stopped and watched but no one offered assistance. I was a nobody and people could not be seen helping me. It made sense. I never helped myself so why would they help me. Rather than standing up to myself, I adapted. I began carrying a change of clothes with me and I tried to take different routes to the cafeteria. Dave and his minions always found me.

The name calling started shortly after it became evident that the slushies were not going to keep me from doing whatever it was that I did to offend them. Dave was not a name caller. Dave Karofsky was a man of action. He thought with his hands rather than his head. Sebastian -the meerkat, as I liked to refer to him in my head- was the name caller.

_Street rat. _

Just like in my freshman year, my aunt refused to take me school shopping. It was probably because I continued to express my hatred of her. We seemed to be in a never ending cycle.

_Faggot. _

I'd been called that so many times in my lifetime that I couldn't be bothered to let it affect me; at least not on the surface. Like before, I kept my head high and continued about my business.

_Loser_.

_Nerd. _

_Bitch. _

Sebastian had no idea, but I was a bitch. As time passed I grew snarkier and meaner. I was not, however, a bitch in the sense that Sebastian used the word. That bitch -yes, he was a bitch too- had a theory about me that he liked to share with our peers.

_Hummel has a sixty year old boyfriend that he calls Daddy. Daddy gives him money and Hummel screams like a bitch. That's the only way anyone will ever love him. _

I never corrected him. I should have but I didn't. People would believe what they wanted to believe. Apparently, they wanted to believe his outlandish rumor. By the end of my tenth grade year, I was 'officially' a whore that slept around with senior citizens and I was the very last step in the social ladder. Teachers and janitors received more accolades from my peers than I ever would have.

0o0o0

The bullying did not get physical until my junior year. Slushie facials and name calling became locker shoves and dumpster tosses. I persevered. I kept my head up and I moved through school with the waves as the days past. By this time I'd begun counting down days until the end of my time in McKinley Prison – School. I meant school. Really. Not really.

There was a day, midway through the year, that the physical violence reached its breaking point. The day started as any other. I walked through the halls with my head held high and my second set of clothes on. I was headed to gym class. I hated gym class for three reasons: Dave Karofsky, Sebastian Smythe, and Blaine Anderson – the boy with the golden eyes. They were the Trifecta of Pain.

Blaine, Sebastian, and Dave ran our school. Everyone knew them. They were liked by all; with the exception of me of course. I hated them; not very Christianly of me I suppose. Dave was the enforcer, Sebastian was the talker, and then there was Blaine. Blaine was their leader. He never actively participated in my bullying but he never stopped it. He was always around. Blaine was always watching when Dave slammed my head into the edge of a row of lockers and Blaine was around when Sebastian gathered the entire student body to watch me be torn down verbally.

I pushed the door of the locker room open. I always arrived just after the bell so that I could change in peace. The others in my class would have been stretching by then. The locker room should have been silent; should have been.

"What's your problem? Why are you so freaked out?"

"I can't tell you! It's...something bad happened."

"What?"

I knew the voices. Dave and Blaine. They were having a conversation and it sounded juicy. I may not have had a soul in the world to share my gossip with but I was still interested.

"Nothing! Shit!"

Dave was screaming. I jumped at the sound of his voice and banged my knee into a trash can. It tipped over instantly. Fuck. If there was any chance of me being caught, it was then. Of course I would have been caught. I had the ability to sneak around as well as a noisy child.

The sound of scrambling feet ran in my direction. Fuck! I looked for an escape. The door was too far and the feet were moving too fast. Shit. Shit. Shitty shit shit.

Blaine reached me first. As usual, he stared at me without saying a word. Like our first meeting, he studied me. Blaine was always studying me. It was like he was looking for a weakness.

"You have got to be fucking kidding me." Dave said once he rounded the corner. "Hummel...you know you aren't allowed in this locker room while real men are in here."

I scoffed. I had no idea when I got so brave. Bravery was not what I needed while staring the lion in his mouth. I needed to be smart. Smart people did not speak back to angry bears. I did, however. I wasn't as smart as I pretended to be, apparently. "I don't see any real men, so I guess I don't have to leave." I quipped.

Blaine's jaw dropped. I was sure my expression mirrored the bully's. Where had that come from? I was an idiot.

After a moment of disbelief, Blaine spoke. "You need to leave. NOW!" He instructed. His voice was low, warning. For a second, a brief second, I allowed myself to believe that he was trying to help me. Maybe the big, bad wolf wasn't as bad as he seemed. Then, I came to my senses. Blaine was not helping me. He was trying to kick me out. That bitch -he was a bitch as well- was trying to force me out of the locker room. Maybe he thought I was going to try to check him out. I wasn't. Eww...I wouldn't. And I made sure they knew it.

"Oh please! I'm not going anywhere." I shouted. "You guys act like I'm in here because I want to check you out. You act like I want to be here. Guess what! I don't! I have to be here!" My insanity was getting the best of me. Things at home were getting the better of me and my nerves were shot. Insanity. I'd obviously gone insane if I was yelling at Blaine and Dave. Crazy. "I hate this! I hate being here and I hate you two. Also, even if I was here to check guys out, it wouldn't be you two. I don't dig on hairy dwarves with egos the size of Texas and I definitely don't dig on chubby boys that sweat too much and smell of bacon grease and premature balding." I barked.

I never saw it coming. Just like with the car accident. Just like lunch on my first day of senior year. Dave's fist moved so fast that I didn't have time to react before it was connecting with my face. I didn't see it the first, second, or third time. I felt it though. I felt every hit that he threw at me.

I hit the ground with a thud and David climbed on top of me and began to connect punch after punch with my body. It hurt so badly.

"Get off of him!" I heard Blaine shout. That asshole. He didn't care that Dave was hitting me. He cared about getting in trouble. Principle Figgins was an idiot most of the time but he knew how to dish out a punishment. All parties involved would be punished, including Blaine. "Come on, Dave. Get off him."

Dave did not listen. He continued to hit me until someone pulled him off. I wasn't sure who because I blacked out a few times during the course of my beating.

When I came to, there were a pair of lips staring me in the face. There were so big. "Am I in lip purgatory?" I asked. The lips chuckled before asking me if I was okay. "I think I'm dead."

"You're not dead, dude. You look it though." I was certain that I did look it.

0o0o0

The big lips that pulled my attacker off me belonged to Sam Evans. He was a transfer student. He also became my first and only friend. The concept of friendship was foreign to me but Sam helped me navigate the waters, though it was not in his best interest to do so.

Sam Evans was an anomaly at our school. As our junior year turned into our senior year, Sam grew to Blaine Anderson magnitude at our school. He was quarterback of the football team, he was dating Quinn Fabray -the head cheerleader, and he was liked by all. What made Sam different from Blaine was that Sam was my friend. He was my protector. Dave was no longer allowed near me as far as Sam was concerned. Time and time again, I told Sam to leave me alone. I told him that his friendship with me would catch up with him one day. Sam always replied the same.

"_I'm hardheaded, Kurt. I do what I want, not what others want_."

My life fell apart the summer before our senior year. My aunt and I were fighting more and more as we neared my eighteenth birthday. On the day of my birth, my aunt gave me my walking papers. My father's life insurance policy dictated that all payments be made to me after my eighteenth birthday. She no longer needed me and I had no place to go. I was homeless.

Sam was my knight in bottle blond armor. He and his family welcomed me into their three bedroom trailer with the understanding that I would live with them until I graduated. In return, I offered to help with bills. My father's life insurance payments were hefty and I could afford to help out. They turned me down and made me promise to save the money. Southern hospitality at its finest.

"_Sam told us that you guys have intentions of moving to New York after graduation. A big city like that is costly. You guys need to start saving now."_

I loved Sam's parents almost as much as I loved my own.

Senior year was mostly uneventful in comparison with my junior year. The name calling continued, as did the slushie baths. The physical issues did not, however. With Sam by my side, no one dared to lay a hand on me.

Quinn and Sam began to fight just after Christmas break. Quinn wanted him to stop being my friend and she wanted him to kick me out of his house. Quinn was a devout Christian and that did not seem very Christianly to me. I hated her and that wasn't very Christianly either. Thank goodness I am not a Christian.

_Prom is coming up and, if we stand any chance of beating Blaine and Santana_ -Yes, Blaine Anderson was dating head bitch, Santana Lopez. It was a match made in Hell. - _Then you need to drop the loser and focus._

Sam dropped her instead. News spread like wildfire around the school.

_Sam Evans broke up with Quinn Fabray? Are you sure it's not the other way around? _

_Sam broke up with Quinn for Kurt Hummel. _

_Sam broke up with Quinn for Kurt Hummel because Kurt Hummel is actually a girl. _

_Sam broke up with Quinn for Kurt Hummel, who is actually a girl that gives great head. _

_Sam broke up with Quinn for Kurt Hummel, the girl that gives great head and barks on command. _

The rumors were outrageous but Sam seemed not to care. I, on the other hand was very concerned. "Now everyone thinks we're dating, Sam. You have to fix this! They are calling me a girl and, apparently, I give great head and bark on command." I shouted one evening while we surfed his couch.

Sam shrugged. "They can think what they want. I made myself clear to her. I am not dropping you as a friend because she wants to be prom queen. She can deal with it."

I sighed and dug my hand into the chip bowl once again. Sometimes I loved Sam to pieces and sometimes I hated him. That day I was not sure which one it was.

0o0o0

Prom came quickly, as did the final, dreadful moment of my high school life. It was the night I decided that, one day, I would seek revenge on the three men that made my life a living hell. I knew that day that I would make them feel everything that they made me feel. I would tear them down as they tore me down. I didn't know how then, but I knew that I would do it.

Neither Sam, nor myself, had dates for prom. My solo status was expected while Sam's was not. Girls lined up in droves at his locker to ask him to prom. He turned them down one by one.

"_Nah. I'm going to chill with my buddy, Kurt, that night. Feel free to come say hello to us." _

The girls glared at me as they left. Sam was a piece of work.

My friend and I purchased Goodwill tuxedos for the event. We did not have much money but we wanted to look nice for the evening. I knew no one would care how I looked but that meant nothing to me. I wanted to look sleek. Period.

The night was oddly wonderful. The music was amazing and people were in high spirits. That was until Prom court was called to the stage for the prom king and queen coronation. Sam was called to the stage as a member of the prom court.

"Class of 2012, your prom king is, Blaine Anderson." Principle Figgins announced. Of course. I honestly believed that Sam would win, but I had an inkling of doubt. The Quinn Crisis had turned a few people against him. Apparently, those people were important. I guess. I didn't believe so.

I watched from the back of the room as Blaine was crowned. Somehow his stupid golden eyes found me in the crowd and he shot me a mocking smile. It was as if he was emphasizing the fact that he had something I never would. Fuck him. He could keep his crown and his stupid smile.

"And your 2012 prom queen is," The room watched as Principle Figgins opened the paper the held the name of the prom queen. I already knew who it was. It was Santana Lopez. She and Blaine had been going strong since the end of junior year. I hated her almost as much as I hated him. "With an astounding number of write in votes..." Principle Figgins paused. He seemed conflicted. "Kurt Hummel." He finished lamely.

My heart beat triple time. I hadn't expected that. It was another car accident.

I immediately began looking for an exit. The door was close but not close enough. I was stuck.

The room fell silent for a moment as people searched for me. Once I was found, the entire gym burst into laughter.

_They're all going to laugh at you. They are all going to laugh at you. _

I was not sure if the voice in my head was my own or that of Piper Laurie. I was humiliated. Again. I closed my eyes and covered my ears in an attempt to block their jeers. When I realized that my attempt was unsuccessful, I tried to use my made up telekinesis to lock the doors and light the gym on fire.

Silence.

When I opened my eyes, I realized that the gym was not an inferno. Everyone was still laughing and pointing. I was the prom queen. I was their prom queen. My mother always said I could be anything I wanted. I did not want this.

I chanced a look at the stage. Blaine was standing dumbly, shifting from foot to foot. He was staring again. When our eyes locked, he looked away. I watched as he took the crown from his head and tossed it aside. He jogged out of the gym a moment later. Apparently, the thought of being crowned with me was too much for him to handle.

Once again, my bottle blond knight came to my rescue. I watched Sam pick up the crown and place it on his own head. He then jumped from the stage and made his way through the crowd to me. "I figured I was runner up. Since Blaine doesn't want to be king, I guess this makes me king and I really want to dance with the queen." I did not move an inch. I allowed his outstretched hand to hang between us for a moment. How was Sam real?

I had no idea. It didn't matter. He was and I appreciated the concreteness that he brought into my life. I took Sam's hand and he pulled me close. For a second, everything felt okay.

Sam and I danced to our imaginary music for a while. The crowd stood back and watched with stunned expressions on their faces. When our eyes met, I tried to convince myself that I could love Sam. He wasn't gay but I wanted someone to love and Sam seemed like a prime candidate. He was kind and courteous in a way that most people were not.

Then I remembered the time Sam jumped into my bunk at half past six and started singing the theme song to Pokémon to his heart's content. It was a Saturday and that was uncalled for.

I realized in that moment that I could never love Sam the way I wanted to love someone. He would have to settle for being my best friend. I was certain he would be fine with that.

The atmosphere changed as Sam and I danced. Unfortunately, we were both lost in our own worlds and did not recognize the change. They had us surrounded. I did not notice until I pulled my eyes away from Sam's. Over his shoulder, I noticed a girl holding a cup. A slushie cup. The girl next to her was as well.

Another car accident.

I wanted to warn Sam but I couldn't. Before my mouth was even open, a circle of slushies were thrust at us. A twenty – one gun salute. Twenty one slushies in twenty one different flavors. My night was officially ruined...again.

0o0o0

Shortly after prom night, came the end of classes. With a week of free periods before graduation, I took a train to New York. Earlier in the year I applied and was accepted to the New York Academy of Dramatic Arts. The Watsons, of course, footed the bill. While in New York, I searched tirelessly for an apartment. I eventually found a one bedroom in Manhattan. It was large enough to put up a partition, making it seem as if we had two rooms.

I sent Sam pictures of the apartment and signed the lease that day. I was grateful that Joanna, Sam's mom, told me to save my money. The apartment was not cheap; not by a longshot.

I forewent walking in my high school graduation. That would have been just one more opportunity for them to embarrass me. I refused to give them that opportunity. I attended graduation none the less and watched as my best friend got the diploma that he swore eluded him.

When the ceremony was over and I was searching for Sam -I planned to throw my arms around his neck and pinch his cheek like an old aunt- I ran into someone. Blaine Anderson. I ran straight into him. I stepped back and took a moment to straighten my attire. Our collision had done nothing for my clothes. In fact, it rumpled them and I did not like that.

When I looked up, Blaine was staring at me. "It's graduation night. Stop staring." I spat. "And if you can't, then you should take a picture. I will last longer!"

Blaine did not reply initially. He simply stared. I did not have time for Blaine Anderson's staring. Sam and I were catching a train that night and he was still missing. "I wouldn't want to break the lens my camera." He responded after a period of time. Asshole.

I stomped away from Blaine dramatically. I hated him. He always had to have the last word. That was fine because, one day, I would have the last laugh.

0o0o0

**A/N: There is Kurt's past. Please feel free to leave me a review. I was so excited with the reaction to the first chapter. Keep 'em (reviews, alerts, etc) comin' and I'll keep 'em (chapters) comin'. **

**The assistance from Windsor and Belle will always be appreciated. Thank you ladies! **


	3. Chapter 3

"Remember, Sam, don't tell them who I am. I want to see if anyone recognizes me after my expensive body surgery." I said as Sam steered our rental towards Breadsticks. From the passenger's side, I straightened the imaginary creases in my expensive suit. I bought it with one of my father's life insurance checks. I wanted a special suit for special occasions. I saved it for special events, which meant that it had only been out of the closet never and now.

The suit was sleek and black. It was also Armani. I ate Top Ramen for a month to handle the blow to my bank account. It was worth it. I looked suave; debonair. I looked like I should have had men -and women- begging for my attention. I would by the end of the evening. I was one hundred percent sure of that fact.

He chuckled next to me. "What expensive body surgery? I thought you took up jogging to lose weight." I sighed. Over the years I was left to wondered about my best friend.

"I didn't have surgery it was just a bad joke." I admitted. My friend smiled. I had to admit that he looked nice though his outfit was not what I planned it to be. I wanted Sam to dress up like I did. Instead, he chose to wear a pair of navy slacks, a plaid button down, and a khaki blazer. At least it was Ralph Lauren. He wasn't my debonair side kick but bitches would swoon. They always swooned for Sam Evans.

Sam pulled our vehicle into the parking lot. It was packed. People were heading into the building in droves. Sam looked over to me and smiled. "What was your new name again?" Yes, I'd chosen a pseudo name.

"Bruce."

"Like Bruce Willis?" He asked as he had the last time.

Again, I sighed. "No. Like Bruce Wayne."

"So I should tell people that your name is Bruce Wayne? Dude, that's Batman. Everyone will know you are lying." He insisted.

"No! Just Bruce. I'll come up with a last name if I have to. I probably won't have to. I haven't changed that much in the past ten years. I don't look that different."

Sam said nothing. What was he thinking? I had no idea but I desperately wanted to know. "Okay?"

"You have changed a lot in the past ten years, Kurt. Not in a bad way. You're still super awesome and you're still my number one dude. You just...you look different. You're all skinny and...like guys are always chasing you because they think you're hot." He spoke the truth. The men in New York loved Kurt Hummel. I made them cummel...alot."Ready to go?"

"Yeah."

We exited the car together and joined the masses that were heading into the building. People recognized Sam instantly. They began shouting at him and offering him kind words.

You look great, Sam. Gay, gay, gay. I should have bought him a flashing sign so that everyone would know. Every man in line, once upon a time homophobes, offered Sam a compliment. Obviously a compliment did not indicate sexuality but it made me feel better to assume they were all gay. That put us on level ground.

The line moved quickly as people began to filter into the restaurant. The excited screeches of long lost friends could be heard from the streets. Squealing bitches. They sounded like pigs to me.

Before I knew it, Sam and I were at the head of the line. Sat against the wall before us was the sign in table. Blaine was at that sign in table. Asshole. I watched as he and Sam smiled at one another. "It's good to see you again, man." Blaine said as he wrote out a name tag for my blond friend. "I can't tell you how cool it was to have an old classmate at my signing last month."

Sam smiled as he took the name tag. 'Hi, my name is Sam Evans.' It read. Sam pulled the adhesive protector off the tag and stuck it to his blazer. "Yeah. It was cool to see you too."

Silence settled between the two before Blaine turned to me. He titled his head and squinted his eyes as he examined my face. For a moment, I thought he remembered me. "Is this your plus one? Quinn said you didn't give a name." Blaine directed his entire conversation to Sam. It was as if I was completely invisible.

Sam stepped aside and motioned for me to step forward. Apparently, he wanted minimal involvement in my plan. Blaine's face softened as I stepped forward. It was now or never. "My name is Bruce." I stated. Blaine never took his eyes off me. It was as if he was waiting for more.

"Bruce...?" Last name. Shit. His stupid face made me forget that I might need one.

My eyes darted around the room frantically. I needed a last name. Wall. Beer. Drama bitch with the trucker hips. None of them would work. Fuck.

I was about to give up when I spotted it; hanging from the ceiling in all its glory was just what I needed to make my lie believable. "Banner." I proclaimed proudly. I missed the way both Blaine and Sam's mouths dropped. I was rather proud of myself. "My name is Bruce Banner."

"Bruce Banner?" Blaine clarified. I nodded. That was what I told the asshole. Apparently his hearing was going in his advanced age. I smiled down at Blaine as he wrote out my name tag.

'Hi, my name is Bruce Banner'. It was perfect.

Sam and I made our way into the restaurant. Just like before, everyone greeted him with kind eyes and greeted me with questioning stares. We found a table in the back of the room and took a seat. It was then that Sam spoke. "Bruce Banner, dude? Really?"

I had no idea why he was so mad. I thought the name was brilliant considering the circumstances. "What's wrong with it? I had to improvise."

"So you tell a comic book artist that you have the same name as The Hulk?" I ran through what I knew about super heroes. Peter Parker. Bruce Wayne. Michael Jackson; he was a superhero in my book. Thor. Clark Kent.

"No. I think his name was just The Hulk." Sam deadpanned.

"Really? So when he was at work, they called him The Hulk? When he was hiding out in The Avengers -you remember The Avengers right?- they called him The Hulk? No, Kurt. They called him Bruce Banner."

I shrugged. Whatever. "Doesn't matter. I got a sticker so -" I punctuated my sentence by sticking out my tongue at him. He rolled his eyes at my antics and we were no longer on different sides of the fence.

OoOoO

Santana Lopez was the first person to visit our table. Her arrival was as shocking as Blaine's reappearance in my life. "Sammy! It's been so long!" She squealed as she made her way around the table. Shocked as fuck. That was how I felt. I never knew that Sam and Santana were anything other than mortal enemies. Apparently not.

Sam pulled Santana in for a giant hug. "Santana, I've missed you. I haven't seen you in the city lately." The Latina shrugged. I had to admit, she looked amazing. She wore a tiny, black dress that hung off one shoulder and clung to her killer body. If I hadn't hated her and if I was a little less gay...yeah.

"I've been busy. I got a job choreographing for a dance troop in Chicago. I live there now. You know I love New York though, Charlie and I can't stay away. We visit at least once a month."

"Cool!"

Santana's gaze turned to me. "You must be Sammy's friend. He told me about you when we spoke last week. Nice to meet you, Bruce." Like all the others, Santana did not recognize me. She did, however, extend her hand for me to shake. I wondered what to do. I could spit in it or I could shake it politely. I chose the latter though the former felt like a viable option.

"Nice to meet you, Santana. Sam has spoken highly of you." Lie. Sam hadn't spoke of Santana at all. He never once mentioned that he and the girl had any contact with one another. Friends didn't let friends know when they were fraternizing with ex enemies I supposed. I tried not to let it get to me but I was a bit put out that Sam had friends that I didn't know about. He knew all five of my friends. He knew Harmony because the three of us often drank the night away together. He knew Adam because he'd caught us in quite a few precarious positions. Brody, Derek, and Starla were all friends from school that I associated with during college and after. Sam knew all of them and he knew them well. I, on the other hand, knew none of Sam's friends. I was not sure how to felt about that.

A woman joined Santana a moment later. She was gorgeous in a Morticia sense of the word. She wore her black hair down so that it flowed onto his shoulders. She also wore black rimmed glasses that drew attention to dark eye makeup. "Oh...here's Charlie." Santana exclaimed. She heightened my shock by planting a giant kiss on the woman's lips.

Sam smiled giddily -he was not immune to the male, age old love of lesbians. "It's good to see you again." Charlie preened as she leaned in to kiss my friend's cheek. I was momentarily forgotten while the group exchanged pleasantries. When they remembered my presence, they all turned to me. "This is my friend, Bruce." Sam explained. "He tagged along."

Charlie smiled adoringly. "Well, any friend of Sammy's is a friend of mine. It's lovely to meet you, Bruce." Morticia extended her hand to me. I took it without hesitation. I did not know her, so I had no underlying need to spit in her hand. I would save that for people that I knew and sorely disliked. Santana was a great example of a hand that I would spit in without a second thought. Bruce would not spit in her hand, however. God damn Bruce.

I flagged down a waiter as the trio spoke. "Whiskey, bring me whiskey." I insisted. The young waiter -probably a student at McKinley- nodded as he jotted down my order.

"I'll need to see your ID, sir." For the love of Christ.

I glared at the young man for an extended moment before speaking. "Are you kidding me? I'm at a high school fucking reunion." I spat. "Unless I graduated when I was ten, then I'm of legal age." The young man reeled backwards before scampering off.

"You handled that well." Santana nodded at me approvingly. "We should hangout some time. I would love to see how you handle the waiters in New York. They are far more likely to bite back than the ones here." If only she knew. I was an old pro when it came to putting people in their places.

"Sounds lovely." Probably not. How about, hell no. I would not be hanging out with the likes of Santana Lopez.

Santana rejoined Sam and Charlie's conversation as I sipped on my drink. To my surprise, I could see the admiration that Santana had for Charlie radiating off her in waves. She truly loved the woman that stood next to her. It was mind blowing. The same Santana that did her best to make sure I knew that she did not approve of my 'ladiness' was a lesbian. Whodathunk?

OoOoO

Santana and Charlie left Sam and I to go mingle with other guests. "I didn't know you hung out with Santana Lopez?" I hissed when they were out of earshot.

Sam shrugged. "I don't really. I knew Charlie before I knew that she was Santana's girlfriend. Remember the redhead that I used to play for at Nightlines?" Nightlines was a bar in New Jersey. Once in a blue moon, Sam and I traveled there to unwind. We told the few people in our tiny circle that we did it so that we could drink and enjoy ourselves without being recognized. We had some unrealistic idea that people recognized our faces and would report our actions. To whom they were supposedly reporting us, I had no idea. We were drunk idiots back then.

"Of course." I did remember the girl. She dressed like a fucking hippie. There were days I wanted to shake her. I wanted to ask her why she was hell bent on taking fashion back fifty years. I never did. I should have but I restrained myself. Come to think of it, I'd never interacted with the girl at all. Not once. It was more my doing than Sam's. I just...had no need to meet her.

"That's Charlie." My head shot towards the crowd and I scanned it quickly. With a squint of my eyes and a tilt of my head I saw it. Her hair was black now and she'd slimmed down quite a bit. She also dropped the ill-fitting skirts for outfits that showed off her figure. I approved.

"Whoa! She looks great! I always pegged her as a lesbian. Santana though. That one caught me off guard." Sam nodded. Apparently he hadn't expected it either.

Our conversation slowly drifted to our plans for our return to New York. The next day we would spend time with Ma and Pa Evans -I'd taken to calling Sam's parents that since they were the only parental figures available to me. I couldn't quite bring myself to call them Mom or Dad. - and then we would all pay my parents a visit at the graveyard.

We continued our conversation until we were interrupted; rudely interrupted. "Sam Evans finally visits Lima and he's holed up in a corner with a friend from New York. That's hardly fair!" It was Dave Karofsky. The same Dave Karofsky that beat the shit out of my junior year and only received a three day suspension.

I looked up to see him charging towards our table. He looked like fucking bull. "How's it going, man?" Dave pulled Sam into a tight hug, one that Sam reciprocated. When we got home, I was going to have a serious talk with Sam about fraternizing with enemies.

"Nah, man. We were just hanging out. What have you been up to?" Dave broke into an entire infomercial about his charity and the work he'd done with it. I wanted to gag. Or gag him. Whichever was easiest.

Dave told Sam his entire life's story since high school. Ohio State. Rooming with Blaine. My mind could only conjure up so many gay scenarios for their time together. Each was more horrifying than the last and I was a nauseous mess by the time Dave's story reached present day.

"Now we're planning for an upcoming fundraising dinner. One thing that I've noticed with my community," He meant the gay community. I knew because he'd mentioned his grand coming out a number of times. Oh...and I knew because it was plastered all of New York media like advertising for an upcoming movie event. "There is a lot of bullying that comes with being gay and I want to put forth an effort to help eliminate that. It is a huge undertaking but I think we can do it with money and awareness. Schools do not have the funds to constantly combat bullying and tend to their students education needs. I want to start a fund to help schools in our area teach their kids that bullying is wrong. I also plan to start a program within my own organization to help kids like myself understand that bullying our own is just as bad as others bullying us."

By the end of Dave's speech I was truly sick to my stomach. "Oh God." I groaned, not meaning to. Dave stopped speaking immediately and he and Sam turned their undivided attention to me.

"You okay, Bruce?" Dave asked. He rested what was supposed to be a reassuring hand on my shoulder but it felt far from reassuring. It was what I assumed branding felt like. His hand was hot and heavy on my shoulder and I felt like my skin was being marked by him. I hated it.

I shrugged him off before turning my attention back to my drink. I could not believe the things he was saying. He sounded like a God damn warrior for the cause. In my opinion, he was the same closeted asshole that put me in the hospital and made my life hell for four, straight (no pun intended) years. "I'm fine."

I felt Dave staring at me. "Well, that's good. I'd hate to think that a man as beautiful as yourself could ever be anything less than fine." Oh he had to be kidding me.

"Umm...yeah!" I stammered, shocked by the exchanged words that we'd literally just shared. Dave smiled at me and I swore I was going to throw up in my mouth. Gross. He obviously didn't understand that I still didn't dig on chubby boys. Big Daddy Diesel had no chance with me. Even if he hadn't made my entire high school career a living hell, there would be no way in fuck that I would give him a chance. I had standards. STANDARDS!

"Leave that poor boy alone!" I heard someone shout. I turned to the sound of the voice to see Sebastian walking towards us with his arm slung over a smaller man's shoulders. The man wore glasses and a finely tailored suit. My oh my. Dave should have taken his tips from the guy that Sebastian was with. That was the kind of man I would fuck. Me-ow!

Dave turned to them and smiled excitedly. "Chandler, Seb, how's it going?" He asked anxiously. The two smiled happily. "I thought you guys weren't coming. I thought you were having issues getting a sitter for Jack."

Sebastian and Chandler shared an adorable look -even I could admit that they were fucking cute- before turning to Dave. Sebastian answered. "My mother eventually relented. I convinced her that her garden club party was less important than her grandchild."

Dave nodded excitedly. He looked like a child with friends that were sleeping over. Fucking A. "Oh, we don't know you. Seb has briefed me on everyone -including showing me pictures of them, but I do not remember your face." Chandler said as he shot a look my way. I smiled seductively at him, though I did not mean to. There was something about him that made me want to bend him over and-

I quickly realized that everyone was waiting for me to respond. "Yeah. Hi, I'm Bruce, Sam's friend." Chandler grinned excitedly as he took my hand. "It's nice to meet you...?" I pretended not to know his name. Of course I knew.

"Chandler." He filled in. "And this is my husband, Sebastian. Say hi, honey."

"Hi, honey." Sebastian parroted behind his husband before turning back to his conversation with Sam and Dave. The three acted like old friends. They laughed and patted each other on the back as they discussed past and current affairs. I hated it. Sam was too good for them. Why was he entertaining civil conversation with them?

Chandler rolled his eyes before turning his full attention back to me. "Sebastian and I have been married for seven years. We have a six year old son named Jack. Do you want to see a picture?" I did not. Unless his dick's name was Jack and he happened to have a giant picture of it in his wallet then I was most definitely not interested.

"Um..."

"Great!" Chandler squeaked as he pulled his wallet out of his pocket. He moved so quickly that I did not have time to stop him. I really wanted to stop him. "This is Jack when he was first born." He pointed to a picture of an infant. "And this was a few years ago when we took him to Disney Land. Sebastian had a conference before the new tax season started. This is him last year when we took him trick or treating. He and Sebastian were monkeys. I was a banana. It was so cute. And this is-" I tuned Chandler out and focused on the conversation that Dave, Sam, and Sebastian were having.

"...and I play a few club nights in the city. You guys should come out." I heard Sam say. He was getting mighty chummy with the idiots that I was trying to bring down. I was only the slightest bit agitated. Sam was a kind hearted man; he cared for everyone. My friend would not be Sam Evans if he didn't chat with everyone and make them feel like he'd been their friend for years. Asshole. I didn't mean that. Sam was far from an asshole. He was an angel; my angel. Sam was my angelic best friend. My best friend. Mine dammit! Okay, maybe that was a bit harsh. Sam had quite a few friends but...none of them should have been associated with McKinley High School. Zero.

"Yeah and you should definitely check out my fundraiser next month." I heard Dave reply. "We're charging $2,000 a plate but I know a guy." The three laughed. Assholes. Again, not Sam. Uggg...who was I kidding? Sam was one of them at that moment. Once again, I was the outsider. Whether I chose my fate or not was irrelavent. Had I gone to the reunion as Bruce Banner or Kurt Hummel, I would have been on the outside looking in. Exciting right? Not really.

"...and this one on my phone was from this morning. Jack wanted me to help him bake muffins for his Papa. Isn't that sweet. Look at all the flour in his hair. My baby boy is definitely not going to be a chef."

"Sounds awesome, bro. Definitely."

"Not fair, Karofsky. You're hitting up my wallet for four grand between Chandler and I. Why does he get to go for free?" Sebastian's voice showed no malice. It was kindhearted teasing. Why couldn't my teasing have been kindhearted and light all those years ago? So unfair.

"...and this was when we dropped him off with Sebastian's mother. That woman is a stone cold bitch but she can never keep a straight face when Jack is around. He brings happiness to everyone and-"

"Did Sebastian ever tell you about a girl named Quinn, Chandler?" I froze at the sound of Blaine's voice behind me. Chandler and I turned to him and I watched as Chandler shook his head. "Well, she's got a daughter and she loves to meet other parents and share pictures."

Chandler's eyes lit up instantly. "I'm sorry, Bruce," He admitted halfheartedly when he turned back to me, "but I have got to show someone a picture of Jack in his t-ball game last week. It was adorable. Please excuse me." Chandler hopped off the chair and Blaine slid into the newly unoccupied seat. Just my god damn luck.

I turned to my empty glass and willed it fill itself without me having to flag down another incompetent waiter. It did not work. My glass remained empty. "Chandler can be a bit much." I heard Blaine say to the back of my head. "He means well though. He loves Jack and Sebastian more than anything."

"Mmhmm." I agreed. I wondered if Chandler knew Sebastian well enough to know that Sebastian did not deserve his love and devotion. Well, the Sebastian I knew did not know.

I could feel Blaine's eyes fixed on back of my head. Just like he had in high school. Unlike then, this time I turned to face him. Face to face with the devil himself. Blaine looked older but his eyes were just as golden and just as...large. They were comical in a sense. "How sweet." It wasn't and I did my best to hide the fact that I found Chandler's love for Sebastian nauseating.

"I know." Blaine continued. Thankfully, he did not hear the sarcasm in my voice. "Do you know what else is sweet?" I shook my head. "The fact that Sam has a friend in New York that's willing to come all the way to Ohio with him so that he's not alone at his high school reunion."

"Yeah."

"Seriously. I know tons of people in the city," I was sure he did, "and none of them would have been kind enough to travel out of state with me. Well, not unless money was involved. People will do anything for money." That was true. Well...people would do anything for money or revenge. I knew I would. More so the revenge than the money. I was lucky enough to be financially stable.

Blaine continued to speak as I scanned the room. I knew everyone. At one point or another during high school, each of them had ridiculed me, humiliated me, gotten physical with me, or all of the above. I hated them all and I wished more than anything that my telekinesis had come in because I could imagine their blood curdling screams.

Okay, not really. I didn't want to kill any of them. Despite the fact that I was 'that kid' during high school, I never once imagined physically harming them. I just wanted to scare the shit out of them. I wanted them to feel like I felt for all those years; utterly terrified. A kid that could change the ambiance in the room and lock doors with his mind would scare the literal shit out of them. That was all I wanted.

Alas, I was not blessed with the supernatural powers of my dear, Queen Carrie White –all hail the Queen.

I shook the thought out of my head. Even I knew that my imaginative worship of Carrie White was a bit off kilter. I couldn't help myself. Carrie was the ultimate underdog. Her mother was crazy –as was my bitch aunt- and the entirety of her group of peers disliked her for no reason. Hello! It was the story of my life. Unlike myself, Carrie White got her revenge. They doused her with blood and she burned them alive. They voted me prom queen and I would bring them down; one by one.

David Karofsky.

Sebastian Smythe.

Santana Lopez.

Last, but certainly not least was Blaine Anderson. He was their ring leader; their golden boy. He pulled their strings and made them dance. I was going to ruin Blaine and I was going to do it by pulling his strings; the strings to his heart.

OoOoO

Quinn Fabray –Johnson took the stage midway through the night. The stage was small and almost as tackily decorated as her gigantic baby bump. She was dressed in a hot pink dress with a beaded bodice and an empire waist. She looked like a fucking Jigglypuff. Her giant Pokemon eyes made the visual in my head seem legitimate. I wondered if I could catch her and keep her in a tiny ball like they did on the show. It would have kept her from opening her mouth. Gotta catch 'em all!

"Esteemed classmates," she began. Once again, I felt my stomach turn. I never viewed Quinn Fabray as a bully. She was just a bitch. As a bitch, I had morsels of respect for my fellow bitches. Bullies went out of their way to make people feel bad. Bitches just made people feel bad. There was a clear difference. Bitching was imbedded in our DNA; we could not help it. "After years of separation, we are finally under one roof again. We haven't been together as a group since the day of our graduation."

I rolled my eyes and sat back in my chair. The way it seemed, we were about to endure another fifty minute speech, courtesy of the Queen Bitch herself. Luckily for me –which was one of many shocks that evening- I had Blaine to entertain me.

"She's going to go on forever." He whispered into my ear. I turned to see him grinning like a mad man in his chair. He looked like an excited five year old. I wanted to roll my eyes but I had a hard time doing so. I never rolled my eyes at children -young ones- and that was what Blaine reminded me of. "Hey, I know you came with Sam but….do you want to cut out? This was fun but…." Blaine shrugged. No, I didn't want to cut out. I wanted to stay and start putting my plan into action.

"….and throughout the years many of us have lost touch."

Fuck whoever voted Quinn Fabray as our Senior Class President. I was not part of that decision. I voted for myself. I looked between the woman –girthy due to her pregnancy- and Blaine. Neither option seemed better than the other. I picked the lesser of two evils. I offered Blaine a smile and politely shook my head. Minutes alone with him were not an option.

Quinn continued to speak about distance and…whatever. Then she said something that grabbed my attention. "Now, without further ado, I would like to continue with a McKinley class reunion tradition and invite our prom king and queen to the stage for a reunion dance." She had to be kidding me.

The entire room began to buzz as Blaine stood. They were not talking about him, however. They were talking about me.

_I heard he died. _

_I heard he went to jail. _

_I heard he's hiding out overseas. He was caught trafficking innocent children underground. _

The last one truly shocked me. Really? It was Jacob Ben Israel, small time blogger. Despite the outlandish rumors, general consensus seemed to be that I'd perished. Even Santana, Sebastian, and Dave seemed accepting of the information. They were grilling Sam about how I died. I kicked him under the table, causing him to jerk. I needed him to lie for me.

"Ummm…..he didn't die." Sam insisted. "He….I haven't spoken to him in years. He….probably just couldn't make it." I internally squealed. I hated bringing Sam into this but everyone knew we were close in high school.

"Alright, Lips. Whatever you say." Santana commented before turning back to Charlie and wrapping her arms around the woman.

Sebastian turned his attention back to Chandler while Dave and I turned our attention back to the stage. Quinn seemed perturbed. "Since Kurt Hummel," she spat my name out like a rotten piece of fruit, "believes that he is too good to join us for the evening, I will dance with Blaine." I watched as she handed the microphone to someone off stage and the two began to dance.

Together, the pair danced. They circled the small stage effortlessly as 'I Will Always Love You' played in the background. Most people thought it was sweet while I thought it was comical.

They would make the perfect couple. Someone whispered behind me. .

Hardly. Quinn was married and as big as a house while Blaine was gay; gold star gay. While they circled the stage once again –their crowns catching the spot lights with each turn- Dave made his way towards me. "So, Bruce-"

I cut him off immediately. "No!" Dave was not part of my romantic revenge plan. I had other plans for him, as I had for the others. I planned to tear Santana and Charlie apart, just like I planned to pit Sebastian and Chandler against one another. I didn't want to tear them apart because they had a child but I wanted them to have one hell of an argument. As for Dave, I wanted his benefactors to know the kind of person they were giving money to. I wanted them to know that Dave Karofsky was nothing more than an oversized bully in adult clothing. I did not want to ruin his charity because I believed in its caused. I simply wanted to read about the scandal in the morning paper. Lastly, I wanted to break Blaine's heart. That meant that I had no room for Dave Karofsky or his flirtatious eyes.

"I am sorry, David, but I'm not interested." I turned my gaze to Blaine and waited for him to follow it. I listened as Dave took in a jagged break.

"Oh…Blaine…okay." He stuttered. "I'm sorry for bothering you. Blaine is a friend of mine and if you like him…go for it. He's a great guy."

I grinned at the man. "I think so as well and I would like to get to know him."

"I'll put in a good word for you." He offered eagerly. It was borderline pathetic.

"I'd love that."

OoOoO

The evening ended around midnight when the restaurant began to close. Dave indeed put in a good word for me with Blaine and that was how I found myself walking through a hectic parking lot with him. He even offered me his jacket, though I had my own. Such a fucking gentleman.

"So," he said with an excited half smile. "Dave told me that you'd like to hang out when we are both back in New York. I would love that." No he wouldn't, but he didn't need to know that.

"Definitely." I admitted. I had to pat myself on the back, my acting skills were impeccable. I refused to call it lying. It was acting.

"Give me your phone. I'll put my number in it." For a split second, my entire plan came crumbling down. I couldn't give him my phone. My home screen picture was my tenth grade year book picture. I also didn't want him to call me because my voicemail clearly stated that my phone belonged to Kurt Hummel. I would have to change that.

I shook my head. "Give me yours. I'll put my number in it and you can call me." Changing my voicemail greeting was small potatoes compared to changing my home screen picture. I liked that picture….a lot.

Blaine handed over his phone and I saved my number under 'Bruce B.' When I handed it back, our fingers grazed and I did my best to prolong it as long as possible. I was building our scene. Blaine blushed slightly before pulling his hand away completely and placing his phone in his back pocket. "I'm appearing at a small convention next week but I will be back in New York on Friday. Can I call you to make plans for my return?"

I nodded. "Absolutely."

"Great."

Blaine finished walking me to the car and I handed back his jacket. "I'll talk to you soon, Mr. Anderson."

He smiled at me. I was so desensitized to his smile after a night of seeing it that my stomach didn't even turn. "I can't wait, Mr. Banner." With a farewell wave, Blaine turned and walked towards the group of friends that he had waiting. It was the beginning of his end.

OoOoO

Sam reached the car a short time later. Apparently, he'd spent much of the evening getting reacquainted with Brittany S. Pierce. She was a lovely girl in high school, though she was a bit different from the rest of us. She was never cruel to me but she never helped me. She always walked past as if nothing ever happened. I hated that Sam was speaking to her but I knew he harbored a crush on her that spanned a ten year timeframe.

When Sam plopped down in the car, he turned to me. "What the hell are you getting yourself into, dude?" He asked. I cringed. I didn't want him to know.

"Umm…pass?"

Sam rolled his eyes. "No! No passing! You have to tell me." I sank back into my seat and tried not look him in the eyes. "Dude, are you playing out another one of your Carrie fantasies. Last time you did that, you almost burned your house down and you had to sleep on my couch for a week."

I gasped. "That's a lie! I wasn't playing out any fantasy. I fell asleep while cooking an omelet!"

"Uh huh!" Sam did not believe me. "I'm sure you were. That's why you screamed 'they're all going to laugh at you' when I walked into your place."

I tried not to laugh. I'd only done it because we had watched the movie only hours before and Sam told me that the sound of Carrie's mother's voice shouting that line scared the hell out of him.

"Oh…Sammy, I was just messing with you. Calm down. I don't have any crazy, killer revenge notions in my head. I'm just….trying to forget the past."

Still, Sam did not believe me. "Uh huh! Just…be careful, Kurt. You act like you're a man of steel but you and I both know you are not. Just…don't get hurt."

I nodded next to him. "I won't, Sam. I promise."

OoOoO

**A\N: Chapter 3. I am now working on TTMAB. Follow me on twitter *britbojangles. I may start using Tumblr again...I will let y'all know. Let me know what you think. The next chapter will he from Blaine's POV. **

**Quick note: we are human, please forgive any mistakes. A million thanks to Belle and Windsor. Love y'all.**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N: Chapter a la Blaine Anderson. Hope you enjoy. **

**OoOoO**

My affair with March was tumultuous; bittersweet in a sense. Regardless of my location, the weather was always to my liking. While in New York, the light snow outside my apartment window back dropped my creative flow nicely. One particular March, while visiting Miami with friends, the warm, inviting sun kept my cheeks rosy and sent me home with a lovely tan as a souvenir. Like sugar, complimentary weather made March sweet.

March was also a bitter month. Fourteen years ago, at the very beginning of my teenage years, I made an announcement that turned my world upside down.

My family was gathered around our ridiculously lavish, dining room table, enjoying Sunday dinner when I decided that it was then or never.

_I think I'm gay._

Four words -five if I split up my conjunction. Those four words changed my life...and not for the better. That cold, March night my father scolded me while my mother cried across the table. Apparently, the idea that I would not marry a beauty queen and produce perfect carbon copies of myself for their entertainment was unfathomable. I did not find the news nearly as devastating. The 2007 Miss America winner, Lauren Nelson, was gorgeous but not in a 'has a giant cock' kind of way. As a pubescent boy, cock size meant the world to me.

That March evening began what would be the rest of my teenage years. My father spent his time scolding me and my mother spent her time crying over 'where she'd gone wrong'.

The following March was just as bitter. It was a March that I always wished to forget but never could. It stuck with me like a toothache. At times the pain was minimal, ebbing at the edge of my brain as a reminder. Other times it was unbearable. That March shaped my high school life.

I could not be too angry with March. The other eleven months would have been jealous.

The August before my freshman year was fantastic. In an attempt to appease my butt hurt father, I tried out for the football team. Second string kicker. My tryout went well and I was invited to Junior Varsity football camp. My father was pleased and I met two lifelong friends. Sebastian and Dave became my everything. They accepted me for who I was before they knew who I was.

During football camp, the three of us hovered around one another. From the very beginning, I knew there was something different about my two friends. Never had I imagined that their secrets mirrored my own. We all assumed the other was 'normal', whatever normal was. Throughout August, we bonded. By the first day of school we were inseparable.

September was... it just was. The first day of school was... different. Because I wore a football jersey on the first day -as we were instructed to do by Coach Beiste- people were courteous whenever I passed. The girls winked and the guys nodded approvingly. I was junior varsity but I commanded respect in my jersey. I hid behind that jersey for four years.

Lunch was the highlight and the downfall of my day. Sebastian, Dave and I sat together as expected at an empty table. To our astonishment, others joined us slowly. Freshman cheerleaders, a few sophomores, and some other members from the second string team. We were a small utopia of ninth grade royalty. I was happy, if only for a moment.

My world crashed around me mere seconds later. Sebastian and I were mid conversation when we were interrupted.

_Can I sit with you?_

Five words that broke me because, one look at the person in front of me and I knew I had to decline. His cherub cheeks and tie dye eyes were too much to take in. He was adorable and, in my mind, the manly man that I desperately wanted to be did not find comfort in adorable things. No puppies. No kittens. No babies. No chubby little angels with soft voices and kind eyes.

Luckily, Sebastian or Dave -I wasn't sure- saved me the trouble. Whomever it was -I never thought to ask- called the cherub boy something that made my skin crawl and sent him on his way. That day was the beginning of four of the toughest years of my life.

OoOoO

As high school droned on, so did my halfhearted relationship with my parents. I pretended to try and they pretended to care. Fables aside, the cold reality of my school existence droned on as well. As my athletic star brightened, Kurt's -I learned his name when Sebastian stole his school planner- social star dimmed. I continued to stand idly by as it occurred. I never stepped in to defend him. I was a coward.

During junior year, I made a decision. No, it was not to help Kurt in his day to day. Again, that would have taken courage that I simply did not possess. Instead, I asked Resident McKinely bitch, Santana Lopez, to be my girlfriend. At the time, I did not know she had a secret of her own. Santana graciously accepted and my parents were pleased. It was not until a few weeks later that I learned why she accepted.

Breadsticks was the worst restaurant in Lima. Their bread cured diseases. They were so bad that people usually died before their ailment could get the best of them. Regardless, Breadsticks was a hot spot and my girlfriend loved to eat there. Just before Christmas break, during our junior year, I decided to appease her. I took her to Breadsticks. It was family dinner all over again...to an extent.

Santana was quiet most of the evening, only speaking when spoken to. That was a telltale sign that something was wrong. "You okay?' I asked as I placed my hand gently atop hers. She seemed anxious, frazzled.

After a moment of pulverizing a breadstick, she spoke."Can I trust you?" She asked with a great deal of trepidation.

"Of course." I replied. Santana could always trust me. I may not have been the knight in shining armor that Kurt -still as intriguing to me as the first day I met him- needed but I promised to make sure Santana was well in every aspect of her life...if I could, I would.

Santana sat with my answer before speaking again. She tore apart a death stick -as I called them- while she thought. When she finally responded, it was in a way that I did not expect.

"My grandmother loves me very much; more than anyone in the entire world...or at least she thinks she does. Her little 'Garbage Face'," The name threw me through a loop because I knew for a fact that Abuela Lopez referred to her granddaughter by the name, "deserves the best. She wants the best for me. And that's why I cannot tell her. My Abuela is the mother I never had. Did you know she is a maid? She works nights at The Red Roof Inn and we live in that tiny house in Lima Heights so that she can pay for my cheerleading and, eventually for college. She loves me."

I shrugged. "Okay...what does that have to do with-" Bitch cut me off.

"Do you know why I hate Kurt Hummel so much?" The change of conversation sent my mind spinning once again. I shook my head. I had no damn idea. "I hate him -I mean really hate him- as I am sure others do, because he acts like nothing bothers him. He lets things roll off his shoulders like he has no worries in the world. The rest of us have real issues and Kurt doesn't. From what Sebastian told me, his parents are loaded, so Kurt doesn't have any actual worries. Sebastian also told me that Kurt dresses the way he does to rebel from his parents and that his house is so big that he gets lost some times. I live in a two bedroom hell hole in the projects and that… _jerk _lives in a mansion. It just...makes me so angry." Santana's anger was evident. She snapped a poor, defenseless breadstick in half without so much as an ounce of remorse.

I did my best to reign her back in. "Don't be jealous. I am sure Kurt has his own set of issues and Sebastian has a knack for flat out lying." Sebastian did not fib...he fucking lied and he was good at it.

My girlfriend shook her head. "No! Even if some of it isn't true, some of it is. It has to be. Kurt keeps his nose up like he is better than the rest of us. It's like he knows he will get out while the rest of us are scavenging for a chance. Kurt gets everything and the rest of us are left to sink."

I started to speak, but Santana beat me to the punch. "I hate that he has this...reassurance about himself. He's confident with who he is. I can't be." The look on my girlfriend's face let me know something major was coming.

"Do you know that if I tell my Abuela what is going on between me and Brittany -I hate telling you like this but I can't keep this inside anymore- she would disown me? She would kick me out and I would never have a chance at college. I will never get out of this town if I tell her."

I was out of my seat and around the table before I knew what I was doing. If Santana was inferring what I assumed she was inferring then I was essentially comforting my cheating girlfriend. It also meant that she had a secret as large as my own. For that, I would always comfort her.

The dynamic of my relationship with Santana changed after that night. As we sat in the parking lot of her apartment complex, I shared my secret with her.

"I knew it!" She shouted excitedly. "I always thought you stared at Hummel the way you do because you were jealous too. Now I get it. You love him and you are completely torn on what to do."

I listened to her words but none of them made sense. "I don't like Kurt." I insisted. My girlfriend scoffed.

"Yeah right and I don't like... never mind." without another word, Santana kissed on my forehead and stepped out of my car. I watched per prance up her steps before driving away.

OoOoO

Nothing changed. Santana and I continued to play happy couple and Kurt was continuing to very harassed. Life felt normal. It was sickening how normal it felt. A few weeks before the end of the school year, the foundation began to crumble on my slowly built house. It would take years for that house to fall but only moments for the ground to shake as a piece was chipped away from my molded block.

During college, I learned that David's first romantic encounter with another man happened during our junior year. Until he drunkenly admitted this event to me in our apartment just off the Ohio State campus, I always assumed that I was his first everything because he was mine. I gave everything to David and, in turn, he gave me mediocrity. He was a good friend but he never gave me everything I needed. He always left me yearning for more. Later I realized that more meant not him. David was a good person but he was not my type. He hated Vogue and Katy Perry. I just...couldn't with those. They were written in my wedding vows as requirements for my future husband. Needless to say, I was shocked, but not hurt, when David admitted that he messed around with a guy at a bar during high school.

It was the night before he assaulted Kurt. David was a loaded gun all day. He was waiting for someone to pull his trigger. Unfortunately that person was Kurt Hummel.

David was upset that he received a text from the boy he spent the evening with -'had a gr8 time last night'- and it set him off. I did not know that at the time. So, I followed him from the gym floor back into the locker room to find out why he'd gone sheet white. David ranted and raved for a few moments but offered no real answer to question. He wanted to, I could tell, but he could not bring himself to. Then, as the story went, a hidden Kurt ran into a trash can. The noise set David off and David's reaction to finding Kurt set Kurt off.

They yelled for what felt like eternity. I was like watching a pit bull and a Chihuahua. The two refused to back down. That was the first and only time I took charge of a situation. I took charge and I went about it in the worst way. Rather than calming David, I tried to force Kurt out of the locker room. Kurt grew angrier by the second. David fed greedily off Kurt's anger. He watched as Kurt's mouth ran a mile a minute, flinging words at us like throwing stars.

David exploded. Before I knew what was happening, David had Kurt pushed to the ground and he was hitting him with all the might an iron fist could muster. I did my best to pull my giant friend off the young man but I was not strong enough.

Enter Sam Evans with his slow, sweet, southern fried voice and his impressive upper body strength. He had David off of Kurt in a matter of seconds. Coach Beiste entered moments later and David was suspended. I did not speak to Kurt for the remained of that year and throughout most of the next.

Senior year flew by and, before I knew it, prom was upon us. Santana Banana -I name I gave her when I was high on something at a party in the middle of somewhere- and I were going strong. We both set for college -OSU...GO BUCKEYES- and our secrets were still intact. We were naturally expected to become prom king and queen. We were on top of the world...until we were not.

Being announced prom king was an expectation of mine. Having Kurt elected as prom queen was a tasteless joke that, had I known about, I would have put a stop to. Making Kurt's senior prom hell was the rotten cherry on the top of an all too familiar sundae. I was once served with a spoonful of that sundae and it left an awful taste in my mouth, one that I did not wanted to experience again. In a fit of fright -and possible mania- I dropped my crown on the stage and ran out of the gym.

Rumors flew. The only truth that was spoken was that Sam Evans willingly played king to Kurt's queen. Sam was a better man than I. Many people decided that I ran to avoid having to touch Kurt. Even Kurt himself seemed to believe the hype. I hated that he thought that I thought that he was so repulsive that I ran. I wasn't true. I was just scared. I wasn't tall, sexy -anyone that says Sam isn't sexy is a liar- Sam Evans. I wasn't brave.

I set out after graduation to set the record straight. I wanted Kurt to know why I ran. Unfortunately he did not want for hear my explanations. He snarked when I spoke and I snarked back. It was the last time we spoke for ten years.

OoOoO

College was... college. I came out officially during my sophomore year. I was drunk -as usual- and I spent my night trying to find the gold in David's mouth...with my tongue. It was March again, St. Patrick's Day.

When I woke the next morning, hung over, I sat down with David. I shared my secret. The worst he could have done was beaten up. I liked that option better than continuing to live a lie.

David did not beat me up. Instead, he told me a secret of his own. He was petrified and emotional, much like Santana had been. I reassured David that everything would be alright and then I kissed him on the forehead. That was the beginning of our relationship.

A few months later, Sebastian came out to us. He told us his news in the same manner that he would discuss the weather.

"I like dick."

And that was that. The three of us grew closer during college, especially David and I. We were in the midst of what we thought at the time to be a whirlwind romance. Honestly speaking, our relationship was mediocre. David was not the man I wanted to spend my entire life with -something I knew from the start- so I was hard pressed to invest too much time in our relationship. Instead, I drew.

Regardless of what people said, being an art major was difficult...and expensive. When I came out the second time, my parents refused to foot the bill for any extras. They paid for my tuition and my apartment. That was it. Art supplies, food, books, et cetera, were all my responsibility. It sucked but I made due. Four years at a local coffee shop served me well.

When college was over, Dave and I decided to relocate to the big city. New York to be exact. We found a tiny apartment in a working class neighborhood and used every dime we had to our names.

David found work quickly a nonprofit organization. Needless to say, he had a knack for nonprofit work. That was how he ended up with one to call his own.

I had a much harder time finding employment. Artist in New York, I was a dime a dozen. So, I took a job at a coffee shop to pay my half of the rent and spent my free time pimping out a comic book idea.

Nightbird: The Nocturnal Avenger, was a character I created in high school. He was a good guy that was hardly noble. Nightbird wanted to be one of the bad guys, he wanted to lie, cheat, and steal his way to fame and fortune. He could not, however. A single promise in his past made the fame and fortune unattainable. Nightbird was bound by this single promise to uphold peace and justice. In both of my prior publications, Nightbird challenged a villain while fighting his biggest adversary, himself.

The third publication was set to reveal the history behind the promise. It was set to be my fan's first official look into my life, even if they did not know it

OoOoO

Throughout the years following college, Kurt was spoken of often. Myself, Santana, David, and Sebastian wished him well. We hoped that the heart he carried was not heavy and we hoped that he found someone to erase the ugly bruises that high school left on him. Regret ate us alive from time to time.

Regret and shame turned to fear when invitations to our high school reunion began rolling in. Everyone had a scandal. Every scandal revolved around Kurt and how we treated him in high school.

David's apprehension was expected. He ran a major charity that was campaigning to stop bullying. His name was being tossed about for local office positions. If the people that believed in him knew that he was not the poster boy they believed him to be, it would ruin him.

David was an anomaly in the eyes of his tiny fandom. He was the popular, closeted athlete that never bullied.

_Kind hearted._

_Gentle._

_Caring._

To his followers, David was a sweet soul without an angry bone in his body. If only they knew of David's past.

Sebastian was a small town scandal wrapped in child support. If Chandler found out about Seb's favorite, high school past time, the teacher would not hesitate to leave his husband. I am certain.

Chandler and Sebastian met under precarious terms. During college, Sebastian and I passed a small gathering in the student quad and decided to check it out. The gathering was a meeting, a PFLAG meeting.

My friend and I looked to one another before joining. Because why the hell not? We sat in the back as a discussion ensued, it was about bullying in school. My friend stilled beside me. He was nervous.

Midway through the meeting, a tiny man with a large nose and larger glasses stood to take the floor. I knew instantly that Sebastian was in love. Something about his change in posture made the fact evident.

_I hated myself in high school because everyone else hated me._

The boy reminded me of Kurt Hummel.

_For a while I wondered what I had done wrong. When I figured out that they hated something about me that I could not control, I hated myself more. _

"I know how you feel." Sebastian's voice rang throughout the room as soon as the boy, Chandler, finished speaking. I gaped at him while the others offered sympathetic looks. Sebastian had no idea how Chandler felt. His parents despised him but school was his sanctuary. No one dared stand toe to toe with the Mouth, as some called him.

"Yep, there was this kid, Kurt, and he made my life hell. Nothing I did was enough to make him stop." I was furious with Sebastian, especially when, months later, I found out that he and Chandler bonded over their 'similar' backgrounds.

I hated Sebastian's actions but I still loved him like a brother. I never shared his secret with Chandler. My friend was safe for a while but that was set to change at the reunion.

Santana's situation was vaguely similar to Sebastian's. Charlie once told me of her horribly bullied older sister, the one that killed herself when she was thirteen. Everyone knew of the heartache Charlie suffered from the loss and Santana did her best to stay away from the topic. She never lied to Charlie but she never admitted to being a once upon a time bully.

While my friends were shaking in their shoes, I was excited. I was anxious to see Kurt because I wanted to try to make amends. I wanted to redeem myself... if I could. It was not a guarantee that Kurt would forgive me. I thought of his often so I hoped he would.

Seeing Sam Evans at my comic book signing was...surreal. He was older, his hair was longer, but he was still Sam. In the flesh. At my signing.

We spoke briefly and swore to speak again at the reunion. Only when he was gone did I realize that I forgot to ask how Kurt was.

OoOoO

The second I stepped foot into the reunion Quinn Fabray -big as a house with child- pulled me aside. One of her greeters cancelled -'Sugar Motta decided tonight was a good night to have a damn baby!'- and she needed a fill in. I seemed like a logical option.

I greeted my former classmates with a smile. They each returned it.

_You look wonderful, Blaine._

_Gorgeous as ever, too bad you play for the other team. Wink._

_You look wonderful, Sam._

Sam? My head shot up the second I heard his name, Sam Evans. He looked just as he had weeks prior. His chest heaved as he chuckled at something the man behind him said. I craned my neck to see who he was speaking to.

Dressed to kill, slimmed to perfection, with perfectly coiffed hair, and an amused glint in his eye was Kurt Hummel. He was the man speaking to Sam. He was... a fucking god. I literally had to pick my jaw up from the floor. Literally.

I hurried through most of the line.

_Hi, bitch, long time no see._

_Oh, I didn't know you tried to drug me during senior year in hopes of harvesting my sperm because you wanted to have my children. Thanks for sharing, Tina._

_Yes, I am sure I am gay._

_Yes, I dated David. We only lasted a year. We remain great friends._

_I am still working on the next installment._

Eventually, Sam and Kurt were in front of me. No one else seemed to recognize him, but I did. I spent four years watching Kurt. I would always recognize him.

I spoke with Sam first, not wanting to seem eager. Kurt's hard stare bore into the side if my head as we spoke. When Sam's name tag was finished, I turned to Kurt. He lied to my face.

Bruce Banner.

I was shocked by the name and more shocked that he had to put so much effort into coming up with the name. I did not call him out for it. I spent enough time making him the center of negative attention in high school.

OoOoO

As the night progressed, I kept my eye on Kurt. People seemed to genuinely not know he who he really was. David went as far as to hit on him without a single clue that it was Kurt. I was astonished. From the look on his face, he was as well.

The night ended with me walking 'Bruce' to his rental car. I'd decided, during my dance with Quinn, that I would not 'out' him that night. I would play whatever game Kurt was getting at...for a while. I wanted to get to know Kurt and that only seemed possible under his set of rules.

I offered my number. We both lived in the city and I wanted to spend time with him. Kurt gave me his instead.

Two weeks later I called to invite him to dinner. He accepted without hesitation.

**OoOoO**

**A/N: This is the only story I've ever written that has had my readers so evenly divided. I appreciate the feedback you guys are offering almost as much as I appreciate Windsor and Belle for reading over this for me. Let me know what you all think. Reviews are appreciated. They keep my writing juices flowing.**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: This chapter is from Kurt's POV. The POVs will not be consistent. Most will be from Kurt's perspective and only a few will be from Blaine and possibly others.)**

**Many thanks to Windsor and Belle. You know what you did! ;)**

**Warning: Non graphic relations between Kurt and Adam. I feel that is warning worthy!**

OoOoO

"Come on, just for the night." I turned from the pants I was trying to zip to focus on the gorgeous blond in the bed behind me. If his perfectly, generic bodybuilder frame was not enough to drive me wild, his accent was. Adam's accent was...there were no words. It just was.

I shot him a coy look before returning my attention to my zipper. "You know I don't do that. Staying the night is basically a commitment to you. I do not do commitment and you know why."

"I know…think of the future children. What will they do when we are both gone." Adam droned from his spot on the unmade bed. "Where does that even come from? You always say it and I just… where do these imaginary children factor into anything?"

Adam and I had relations quite often. They always ended in the bedroom. We were casual bedroom friends with no other ties. He did not know about my life and I did not know about his. We spoke the occasional word when we passed each other on the street or when we ran into one another at the subway platform that we each frequented near both our homes. That was it. We were not buds or homies. We fucked. Period.

Adam let out a defeated sigh and I heard him plop down on the bed behind me. I knew he wanted more from me but I had nothing to offer. I dated a few guys in my past but I never fully committed. It was one of the many ways I was not my father's son.

My father committed to my mother the second he laid eyes on her. They met during open house of their third grade year and he stayed faithfully by her side until the day she died.

I, on the other hand, was never completely sold on the idea of committing. Whenever my father mentioned love or commitment, I did my best to tune him out. I never believed I would have the type of love my parents had. My father always seemed to know otherwise.

"_You're gonna meet a..._person_"_ -Dad was always sensitive to my feelings and he refused to assume until I reassured- _"and that person is going to blow your mind and steal your heart. I can't wait to shake that..._person's_ hand."_

Dad never got the chance and, sometimes, I wondered if that was why I was so opposed to committing. My dad wanted to shake the hand of the man I loved and that was not possible. That killed me.

"I might call you tomorrow or...ya know...whatever." I said as I reached for my shoes.

"Yeah...or whatever." Adam repeated bitterly. I paid him no mind as I laced my shoes and headed out of his room. I was out of his apartment and walking towards my street moments later. I had no regrets.

OoOoO

Monday was Sam's day at our studio, so I slept in... or I laid in bed staring at the ceiling. Tomato tuh-motto. Since my brief textual exchange with Blaine the night before, my mind was reeling. I was really going to go through with my plan. Initially it was just talk. I was angry and I had been planning my revenge for years. I never imagined that I would actually reach a point when I would be able to put that plan into action. But I was. I was moving into phase one in my plan and I had no idea how I felt about the fact that I had broken down the plan into phases.

Regardless of how I felt about phasing out my plan, I had already done it. I had everything broken down into a particular stage. Stage -phase...whatever- was dating Blaine and befriending Sebastian, Dave, and Santana. I needed them all to trust me.

Stage (phase) two was basically an extension of stage (phase) one. Stage (phase) three was when things were supposed to get interesting. That was when I would crush them all. I would take my giant, designer boot and squash them like the bugs that they were.

As I lay in bed, I wondered when I became an almighty super villain. It was probably sometime between high school and the end of college. Honestly, it wasn't important. What was important was that I was finally going to get my way. I couldn't fucking wait.

OoOoO

A series of text messages passed between Blaine and it. I tried not to grit my teeth each time I received one from him. He typed like a sixteen year old; the annoying kind.

_OMG! I'm sooo excited 4 our d8 friday. Can't wait to C U! xoxoxo [kissy face] [winky face] [heart] - Blaine_

Stupid fucking emojis.

Okay, he wasn't that bad but he was bad enough. I allowed him to pick what we would do during our 'date' -mostly because I refused to spend my hard earned, blood money on him and he would insist on paying if everything was his idea- and where we would do it at. After my initial text advising me of such, he spent all week texting me about how excited he was for our Friday evening date.

And damn I hated calling it a date. In my honest opinion, dates were reserved for… well no one. I hated dating, so Blaine should have been damn grateful that I was making an exception on his behalf. I was being generous and my generosity deserved a reward of some sort. A congratulatory '_you thought of someone before yourself_' blow job seemed in order. I decided to add that to my list of expectations of Blaine before our inevitable split. It was the least he could do.

OoOoO

Tuesday I met Sam at the shop. Technically it was my day to work but Sam was there as well doing a few repairs. One of the florescent bulbs in our store room was out -Just like the counter, I had no idea why we had a store room. We didn't _store _anything there.- and the toilet in our tiny bathroom ran incessantly. It was a pain in the ass and Sam was finally taking the time to fix it. Not to say that I did not do my fair share of extra work to keep the place in top condition. I was our resident maid -with the exception of the one day a week Marley swept. I was our duster, our window washer, our painter, our organizer, our bookkeeper, and a million other things. Anything that Sam could not or would not do, I did. It was how we worked.

Sam met me shortly after nine at the shop. We opened at ten. Since Sam was 'working' I chose to bring coffee that morning. Sam was a rugged man -black, a 'keep the vanilla for a man who needs creamer' kind of guy- much like my father. I, on the other hand, was my mother's child. I liked my flavored coffee. I bought one of each and met Sam at the front door that morning.

"What's up, dude? _Ooohh_...you brought coffee." He cooed excitedly as he made his way towards me, leaving a pile of supplies crowded around our front door. We had a back entrance but….it was scary back there.

I smiled at my friend, shoving his cup in his direction. "Well of course I did." I responded cheerfully. "You're playing electrician and plumber today, I had to reward you somehow. It's not like you're getting overtime."

A bright, knowing smile crossed Sam's face. "True. Help me get this stuff inside so I can get it set up. I'd like to at least have the light changed before we open." I did as he asked without hesitation. Within a few moments, we had all of his supplies inside the store and I was cleaning in preparation for our opening.

OoOoO

I spent the first thirty minutes of my day acting as a debt collector. There were too many accounts in our books that were not paid and most of them belonged to individuals that had the means to pay them on time. That really pissed me off. Assholes with SoHo lofts and more cars than I had bathrooms -that wasn't a fair comparison because I only had one bathroom in my apartment- but couldn't find the time to write a check for their children's music lessons irritated me to no end. I made my irritation evident in each message I left.

"Hello Mr. Davidson, this is Kurt Hummel from 'Oh Thank Hevans'.Your daughter, Tara, received guitar lessons here on February 11th, February 18th, and February 25th of this year and we have not received payment for those lessons yet. Please contact us as soon as possible with payment for these services. We will not be able to continue her tutelage until arrangements are made. Thank you."

"Hello Mrs. Green-White." Her name always gave me a chuckle. She was a headstrong woman that refused to 'give up' her last name when she married an equally headstrong man. I often wondered if she ever realized what her name would be when she decided to hyphenate it. Probably not. Rich bitches like her did not think of things like that. "This is Kurt Hummel from 'Oh Thank Hevans'. Your son, Daniel, received guitar lessons here on March 1st and March 5th of this year and we have not received payment for those lessons yet. Please contact us as soon as possible with payment with payment for these services. We will not be able to continue his tutelage until arrangements are made. Thank you."

I left six messages and received two payments. They always paid the day they received the phone call because they knew they had to. Sam and I were amazing at what we did and our clients knew it. If only they could have put that knowledge to use _before _I was forced to schedule the first thirty minutes of my day making phone calls.

At promptly 10:30 my first student walked it. It was Derek, a spunky, four year old with a heart of golden goodness and a mother that was often too busy to realize that her son hated singing lessons. She was one of many woman that treated Sam and I as her baby sitters. She often dropped Derek off and headed across the street to make business calls and get her body waxed. I could not stand that entitled bitch. The world revolved around her and everyone was expected to bow down. As my dear, dear friend Cher Horowitz would have said: As if!

Derek entered the shop with a scowl on his face. I couldn't blame him. More than anything, Derek wanted to learn the guitar with Sam as his teacher. His mother would not allow it.

_'No one ever got into Harvard with a guitar, honey.'_

I wanted to prove her wrong. The possibility of absolutely none of Harvard's graduates knowing how to play a guitar was impossible. I kept my mouth shut, for once. That bitch's checks came on time.

"Good morning, Derek. Are you excited for your lesson?" I asked, swooping from behind our unused counter to greet the bleach blond little boy. He offered me a tired shrug. Bless his soul, he was four and had to miss a morning of Pre K to sit in a shop with a music teacher. Poor baby.

"Of course he is, Kurt." I hated the way she said my name as if I was one of the poor souls that was employed in her home. "Derek is always ready. Aren't you, child." Again, Derek shrugged, the oversized blazer of his private school uniform moving slightly out of place as he did so. "We'll have to work on his answering abilities at some point. You can't get into a good school if you can't open your mouth."

"Yep." I responded, never taking my eyes off the little boy.

"Great. I will leave you to one another. I will be across the street making business calls if you need me." Before I could advise her that calling her garden club bitches from the nail salon across the street was not what normal people considered a business calls, Derek's mother had turned on the heel of her Jimmy Choo's and marched out the front door. I couldn't with her, so I didn't. I focused my attention on Derek, he was my student after all.

Derek stood in the doorway, stiff as a board. "What's wrong, Derek? I know you aren't in the mood for singing lessons but we always find something fun to do as soon we run through the lesson. And we get through that pretty quickly just so we can tell your mother we did it." It was true. Five minutes tops was what I asked of Derek's tiny voice and that was so he wouldn't be lying when he told his mother that he practiced.

"I know but...I haven't finished my homework yet and no one will help me."

"Homework?" I asked. "Really?" Derek nodded. I had a difficult time comprehending what a preschooler would turn in as homework.

"We have to write sentences on our favorite letter of the alphabet. I chose 'D'. It's what my name starts with." Derek exclaimed proudly.

"Great. Let's get a few scales done and then we will work on your sentences." The smile on Derek's face warmed my black hole heart.

OoOoO

Midway through finishing Derek's homework -preschoolers with homework made me grateful for my public school education- my phone buzzed. It was yet another text message from Blaine.

"Keep working while I respond to this." I advised the little boy. We were sat on a large, round, blue, yellow, and red shag carpet that I purchased specifically for occasions like this. Many of my students were young and hated sitting in the chairs that I usually taught the older students in. So, we sat on the carpet. It reminded me of a kindergarten classroom rug.

"Okay, Mr. Kurt. Before you go though...how does 'I like D cuz my name starts with D.' sound?" Derek asked me. Oh the innuendos...if only Derek knew the meaning of the word.

"Sounds great, Derek." I responded as I read Blaine's text message.

_Eat a light dinner on Friday cuz I'm taking u for dessert. Casual dress. Meet u at the monument at Ft Greene Park at __8.__-Blaine_

I replied in the affirmative. I desperately wanted to know where we were going but I could wait. It wasn't as if the evening was going to be the best of my life. I was going out with Blaine after all.

Once my text was sent, I re-pocketed my phone and refocused my attention on Derek.

OoOoO

The remainder of my week followed Monday's time line. If I was not working, then I was at the shop cleaning and shooting the shit with Sam. If I was working, then I was dealing with rude parents and children that would have rather been anywhere else. My saving grace was Thursday. Sam and I both worked that day and Marley's lesson was that afternoon. Talent and a will to learn. I loved teaching Marley.

"Party in Jersey tomorrow night? I'm playing with this girl named Kitty and we're getting wasted afterward. She said bring friends...how about it?" Sam sing songed as I wiped down our counter.

"Can't. Date." I responded absently as if dating was commonplace for me.

Out of the corner of my eye, I noticed that Sam had stopped fiddling with his guitar long enough to stare at me in disbelief. I changed the subject as quickly as possible. I knew where our current conversation was headed. "Ooh.. I like this shirt on you. The blue really brings out your eyes. Is this Polo?" I asked, fiddling with the collar of the shirt. Sam batted my hand away.

"Goodwill, now spill. Is it Adam?" I scoffed. Hell no. Adam was a nice lay but that was where the buck stopped. When I didn't respond, Sam raked his brain for another option. Eventually it dawned upon him who I was going out with. "Dude… Blaine? Really? I thought you were just messing around while we were in Lima. You're not really going to... come on, Kurt!"

I shrugged. "I'm not doing anything, Sam. I'm just… getting to know someone I missed the opportunity to know in high school. Who knows, he may be interesting."

"Yeah right." Sam scoffed. "You're like a baby super villain and you're trying to find a weakness. I know how these things work. I have imitation replications of all the old comic books. I know."

"Sure you do, Sam. If you knew things, you would know that I gave up on that whole idea the second we left Lima." Lie, but Sam didn't need to know that. "I honestly just want to get to know him. Is that a crime?"

Sam rolled his eyes and shook his head before turning back to his guitar. "You say that until his house is crumbling into the ground with you and him in it. Isn't that how the movie ends?"

"Shut up, Sam!"

OoOoO

Friday evening, I dressed to impress. I wanted Blaine to fall in love with me after all. I had to look phenomenal if that was going to happen. Seriously phenomenal! Skinny, skinny, skin tight, black jeans. I pulled out the ones that required a jump, wiggle, nip, and tuck to fit into. I paired those death grip jeans with a light blue, short sleeved, button down, dress shirt. And then I added a skinny tie. And a pair of black loafers. I looked.. perfection felt like the correct word.

I left my house at a quarter to eight. Fort Greene was not a great distance, so I made no effort to leave too early. It wasn't as if it was a real date. I wasn't anxious to see Blaine in a romantic sense. I _was_ anxious, however. I was anxious to move forward with my life. That meant confronting my past.

OoOoO

**A/N: REVIEW! LIKE NIKE...JUST DO IT! **

**I loved the response to the last chapter. It was great...you all are great. Be sure to check me out on Twitter: BritBojangles and on Tumblr: MCCLAPYOHANDZZZ**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: Quick note, I am changing the name of this story to 'Pretty Lies and Ugly Truths'. I listened to 'Teen Idle' by Marina and The Diamonds like 100x while writing this chapter and that line stuck with me. The song also reminded me of Kurt. There are a few lines that reminded me of his (my) rather unnatural obsession with the move 'Carrie'. **

**Many thanks to Windsor and Belle for their assistance with this one. **

**Reviews are permitted and appreciated. **

OoOoO

I strolled leisurely into Fort Greene Park late that Friday night. The heels of my freshly shined dress shoes clanked across the pavement as I swung a bouquet of roses thoughtless. My mind could not be bothered with things as trivial as the pedals that were falling from the flowers. My mind was fixated on my next move with Kurt...or Bruce...or whoever the hell he was that day.

As the days until our date passed, I wondered what I would do and how I would do it. Theoretically, the only plausible end to our night would involve me telling Kurt that I knew who he was and then apologizing for how I had treated him all those years ago. Something in the back of my mind warned me away from that option. There was something cold and determined about Kurt, something that I secretly ached to know about. I was left to assume that my confession would cause Kurt to close me out before I was truly in. I did not want that, so I resigned to let the charade last for a little longer.

So much time and so many steps were taken by the time that my decision was made. Before I knew what was happening, I was in front of the monument. Initially I did not see Kurt, a common issue due to crowds and... night. I panicked for a fraction of a second. I was all but certain that he'd stood me up. I was wrong and it did not take long for me to realize that. Upon a second scan of the crowd, my eyes landed on a beautiful creature leaned against a wall. It was Kurt and, like at the reunion, he took my breath away.

I took a moment to gather myself before shouting my date's name. "Bruce!" I called as I lifted my hand into the air. He turned in the direction of my voice and I waved him down with my hand. Once I was certain that he knew it was me, I let my arm fall to my side and watched as Kurt -_Bruce._ I chastised myself for using his actual name more than once that night- strolled towards me. His stride was slow, hypnotizing almost.

"Hey." Kurt stated cheerfully as he neared. He seemed genuinely pleased to be in my presence. I marked that down as an accomplishment. I knew Kurt remembered me and the fact that he was willing to put any ill feelings from our past aside to spend time with me felt like a step in the right direction. "I thought you'd never get here." He added.

I waited a moment before speaking as I took in his appearance once again. He was stacked from head to toe in 'goddamn he looks good'. The view up close was definitely nice. After my moment passed, I met his eyes again and smiled. "Sorry. I got caught up at the florist's. These are for you." I all but thrust the flowers in his direction and waited for his response.

Kurt took his own time as he examined the flowers. The moment seemed to last forever. I watched as he examined each flower, an almost confused look graced his face.

When finally spoke, he said something that I hadn't expected. "Sam is the only person that has ever bought me flowers and he did that because I said I needed some for my kitchen table." Well that surprised the hell out of me.

"Thank you, Blaine." When our eyes met again, I could see a gratitude in them that warmed my heart. Just beneath that, however, was something else, something I could not name. If I was forced to name it, I would describe it as conflict.

"You're welcome, K-" I caught my mistake quickly. "Bruce." I finished, knowing good and well that he'd already heard me.

"Did you just call me caboose?" He asked flatly.

I answered the only way I could. "Yeah." My shoulders sunk as I uttered the word. I was an idiot. The fact became more evident when Kurt turned to look at his behind because obviously that would have been what I was referring to. In my opinion, it was a very nice behind. Supple and juicy and...

"Let's just go." Kurt said while I was conjuring up more adjectives for his plentiful ass.

"Yeah." I replied.

Together we walked in the direction I dictated. It was an interesting start to our date.

OoOoO

Junior's was packed, as usual. Any place with the world's best cheesecake should have be packed. It was a law of science. Kurt's eyes lit up the moment he realized where we were going. Apparently he loved Junior's almost as much as he loved cheesecake. From what I gathered, cheesecake was the one necessity Kurt wanted if he were ever stranded on a deserted island. I filed that bit of information away for possible later use.

We took our respective seats in the establishment -one on either side of the table with Kurt's flowers rested in the bench seat near his window- and placed our orders. Kurt went simple, literally. My date ordered a plain piece of cheesecake. That was it. I, on the other hand, ordered a brownie, marble swirl piece. It was heaven on a plate when it was set before me.

Once we were alone -Kurt, myself, and the flowers- I picked up my fork with all intentions of digging in. Kurt had other ideas.

"Tell me about yourself, Blaine. Tell me what I need to know to fully understand Blaine Anderson." The request was unexpected but not unwelcome. Kurt was getting a head start on the meat of our dateand...I was okay with that. Kurt was heading straight for the meat. Heading for the meat. Head meat. I chuckled to myself. The image of Kurt's head going for my meat made me laugh in an inappropriate way.

I placed my fork back on the table. Unfortunately for my grumbling stomach -I skipped dinner in favor of dessert- a conversation with Kurt promised things that delicious, mouthwatering, giant chunks of cheesecake could not.

"Ummmm... well... you already know my name." I began hopefully. Kurt rolled his eyes and shook his head good naturedly. "I am from Lima. I created The Nightbird comic book franchise with my best friend Wesley Snipes."

"You're best friend's name is Wesley Snipes?" He asked skeptically, one eyebrow drawn into his hairline.

I chuckled. "That's just what I call him." I replied. We snickered together before continuing. I advised Kurt about my professional life -the series and where I wanted to go with it- as well as my personal life. I advised him that I dated David but no one else exclusively. "I've had a one night stand or two but... nothing series. I'm not proud but I won't lie about it."

Kurt nodded curtly at this admission. He seemed to approve of my honesty, so much so that he almost sat down his fork to give me his undivided attention. Almost. The metal never quite hit the table top. I knew where his priorities lay. "Now tell me about yourself, Bruce."

Suddenly, Kurt's fork was on the table. Then again his cheesecake was gone so there was no need to continue holding the utensil.

"Bruce Banner. 27. Vocal coach from Westerville, Ohio. I attended Dalton Academy before continuing on to NYADA. I earned a degree in musical theater and did a few shows after graduating. I then began giving vocal lessons. The pay is actually pretty good -when they pay that is- and the flexibility it allows is amazing." Kurt listed off each item as a piece of a memorized story that he trying not to forget. I was not sure which items were fact and which were fiction. I took note of all none the less.

Once Kurt was finished and my cheesecake was finally swallowed, I responded to his list. "That's cool, Bruce. We played Dalton Academy in football a few times. They usually beat us but they were great guys."

Kurt nodded stiffly. His eyes were as wide as saucers and his mind was obviously going a mile a minute. He and I both knew Dalton Academy was a lie but he did not know that I was privy to such information. "Hey, wasn't that school super expensive? Your parents must have amazing jobs to send you there. What do they do?" I asked.

In a matter of seconds all the comfortable air that I felt surrounding the table was gone. Something changed in Kurt with that simple question but I had no idea what? Externally, he'd shrunken a bit and his wide eyed, doe look saddened but I had no way of knowing what had changed in his head.

"My mother was a music teacher at an elementary school and my father worked quality control for Goodyear. They weren't rich but we did well. I never wanted for anything." He advised me. Something about Kurt's change of demeanor allowed me to believe he was being truthful. That something also made me want to push for further information about his family life. Did he have siblings? Was he still close with his parents? The questions plagued me. So, I asked them.

"That sounds nice. Ummm...I don't mean to step over any lines but...how is your relationship with your parents now? I mean... I don't have the greatest relationship with my parents but I kind of have one. They took my coming out pretty badly. How did yours take your moment in the sun?" I internally face palmed. Moment in the sun? Really?

Kurt snorted, the least eloquent and most adorable thing I'd ever seen. His laughter died quickly. The smile slowly slipped from his soft face and his eyes carried a weight that I couldn't quite imagine. Nothing prepared me for what he said next. "I didn't have a moment in the sun." I immediately began to question things like how and why. Everyone at school knew Kurt was gay. How hadn't his parents? Kurt followed quickly with, "My mother passed when I was eight so I never had an opportunity to tell her and my father just knew. He always knew everything. He passed away before I started high school. I never officially told them but they would have been fine with it. They were amazing."

The bucket of ice water that hit me as Kurt spoke was bone chilling. I believed Kurt without hesitation. Whether it was the tiniest waver in his voice or the way he tapped his fingers nervously against the table as he spoke, I believed him. "I lived with my _wonderful_ aunt after my father's passing." He continued. "She used his life insurance to pay for Dalton. It was the best gift she ever gave me." And just as soon as I noticed the tiny ticks that lay behind the walls that Kurt Hummel built around himself, they were gone. Poof. Thin air. He was back to his charade in a matter of seconds, literally. I, on the other hand, floundered helplessly.

I wanted to apologize. I wanted reach across the table, grab Kurt's hand, and express my deepest regret for his misfortunes. Instead, I sat with my jaw slack and my shoulders slumped. I was hardly a functioning adult in that moment.

"Don't look like that." He teased. "Flies will land in your mouth." I snapped it shut instantly. "And don't feel bad for me. I'm a big boy. I can take care of myself." It sounded like a promise, a borderline threat. Instead of the sentence he offered me, it sounded like he was saying 'I can take care of myself, can you?'. In that moment, I wasn't sure how to feel. Kurt obviously didn't want my sympathy and, if I was him, I wouldn't want it either. So I did the only logical thing I could think of. I shot him a charming smile and offered the change the subject. He was extremely grateful.

OoOoO

The remainder of our date went off without a hitch. We laughed about stupid things we did in college.

"_...I just took off all my clothes, jumped the barrier, and ran butt naked across the football field during halftime. Campus security tackled me at the 50 yard line and they held me until my parents came to get me. My dad was so mad. He kept saying things like 'They don't do these types of things at NYU' and 'If you didn't act like this then you could have gone to Cal Tech'."_

"_Blaine! What made you think that was any kind of acceptable?"_

…_._

"_So, if we're going to...I don't know what we're doing exactly...but if we're going to do whatever that is, then you will soon find out that I have an unrealistic and unexplainable love for the movie 'Carrie'. I've seen it a million times and I can quote it line for line. I don't understand it but I'm sure it's got something to do with my psychological relationship with my _wonderfully_, God fearing aunt. Anyway, they did a Halloween showing at AMC one year and Sissy Spacek was the special guest. I freaked out. I jumped barriers and shoved people to get close to her. Then I basically mobbed her -behind a security and police line of course. I told her I loved her and that I wanted to have her babies. I almost got arrested."_

"_Bruce! What did she say?"_

"_Nothing! She didn't say anything. She didn't have time. I was so busy rambling and bowing that she didn't have time to even kind of comprehend my crazy. The next day I was so embarrassed. Literally embarrassed. She probably thought I was some John Hinckley lunatic."_

We spoke a bit about our friends but steered completely clear of the family topic. Though Kurt continued to refer to his aunt as 'wonderful' I soon realized that sarcasm was a mastered skill for him.

"_Sam will literally eat anything. It doesn't matter if he hates it or not. He was raised to understand that everything costs money. So if he paid for it then he eats it. There are no ifs, ands, or buts about it."_

"_So...say someone wanted Sam to eat chitlins?" _

"_Oh...that wouldn't be a problem either way because Sam loves them."_

"_Eww..."_

"_I know."_

...

"_Wes is really cool but he's a total hard ass. It's work, work, work all day."_

"_All work and no play keeps the devil away?"_

"_A 'Carrie' quote?"_

"_No, my aunt."_

…

"_Harmony isn't so much a friend as a respected rival. She used to try out for male parts just to compete with me."_

"_How did that work out for her?"_

"_It didn't work out well for either of us. We usually ended up fighting during auditions and we were both asked to leave. It's just as well. I had a few parts before I found my true calling and she is now dancing her ass around an off Broadway stage somewhere. We both won in the end."_

…_._

"_David and Sebastian are my oldest friends. As you know David and I dated. We're just friends now. He had some issues during high school but worked them out during college. I think he gets scared to face those past instances because of how it would look. He runs this whole...freaking gay friendly charity and he used to be the guy that people weren't comfortable being themselves around. He regrets his actions but he's still scared of himself."_

"_Sebastian grew into himself more as time went on. He stopped trying to be someone else and accepted himself for who he was; a gay man that wanted the simple things. He wanted a husband, children, a dog. He wanted the whole picket fence lifestyle and he has that with Chandler. He's happy though I know his demons still haunt him."_

"_If we don't wash our dirty laundry, it continues to pile. Eventually we can't see over it enough to find the clean, goodness in life."_

"_True."_

…

"_Adam is a friend."_

"_Okay?"_

"_That's all."_

…

"_Santana just wants to be happy and I think she will be once she starts living for herself and not for the reactions of others. She has always had a problem with standing out. She acted like this tough bitch in high school but that was because she was afraid to be herself. She didn't think people would like who she actually was. In actuality, who she is has always been amazing."_

"_We're often better than we imagine ourselves to be."_

"_You're pretty deep."_

"_As opposed to you. You, my friend, are shallow. I vaguely remember you referring to me as Caboose earlier and I know that had something to do with my enormous ass."_

"_Guilty."_

OoOoO

I hadn't realized how much I was talking until it was too late. During our conversation I completely forgot that I was talking to Kurt, not the Bruce, character that he'd created. That frightened me. I was spilling the troubles of others like water from a leaky pitcher and I wasn't sure how to stop. Kurt was just so easy to talk to. He was patient and he listened attentively. I knew at once that he caught each and every word I spoke to him. Before leaving, I made sure to confront that possible, future issue.

"That stuff I told you about Sebastian, Tana, and Dave...that stuff wasn't supposed to be shared and-" Kurt waved me off.

"My lips are sealed. I figured it was confidential information and I would never want to break their trust on your behalf. Consider it forgotten." I breathed a sigh of relief. Apparently Kurt was willing to try as hard as I was -though we were lying to ourselves, and in his case to me, if we pretended that it would be easy. "What I won't forget is how lovely this has been. I am...thoroughly shocked."

I preened a bit. I couldn't help it. The way Kurt carried himself made me believe that compliments from him were hard to come by. Whether it was Bruce or Kurt, I appreciated his implied sincerity. "I'm happy I could shock you and I had a lovely time as well." We smiled at each other for a moment -it was those matching, sappy, first date smiles- before stepping out of our booth and strolling out into the night.

OoOoO

The walk was almost as pleasant as the sit down in the restaurant. I fumbled around with my hands in my pocket and Kurt fiddled with the bouquet that I bought for him. He smiled down at them in a way that made me wish that I was those flowers and that he was smiling at me the way he was smiling at them.

Kurt and I talked about what we had coming up in our lives and when we could meet again. "So Friday at Morgan's in the city? Are you sure you know where that is?"

Kurt nodded in the affirmative. "At eight with your friends?"

"Yep." I replied giddily. I always got the end of date jitters. I couldn't help it. I was so excited for the possibility of things to come.

"Okay." Kurt seemed to be as jittery as I was. We were stopped in front of the monument, where we met at the beginning of our evening, and our eyes were dancing around one another. His would land on my lips and mine would land on his nose; anywhere but in the eyes of the other. "So..." Kurt began bashfully.

I blushed. The way he said 'so', it did things to me. It was the kind of 'so' that signified the fact that he had no idea where he was headed with end of our date. "So..." I mimicked. He giggled. I liked it.

"So I guess this is where I get off." He eventually replied. As he spoke, he took a step forward. I matched his step.

"I guess so." I responded almost bashfully.

"So..."

"So..."

We stood staring at one another for a brief moment before my body made a decision that my mind had a difficult time comprehending. I leaned in. I leaned my body forward to steal the ever coveted goodnight kiss. Kurt leaned in as well. It felt like it could happen at any second and I hoped my body was prepared.

When Kurt and I were close enough that our mouths should have been touching, Kurt stopped me in my tracks. "Have a good night Blaine." He whispered, his face less than centimeters from my own. Before I could reply or truly understand the kiss that missed, Kurt turned on his heel and strolled away, twirling my flowers and swishing his hips as he went. I was floored. Hell, I was beyond floored. I was _basemented_.

Once Kurt was out of sight, I took a moment to gather my jaw from the ground and to brush off my dignity. With my dignity recollected and my brain finally wrapped around the situation, I headed to the nearest subway entrance. I was ready to head home. I was exhausted and I needed a warm bed to lie in while I figured out what to do next with this situation. If I continued to lie then it would only get worse. If I told Kurt that I knew who he was he would likely pull away from me. I wanted neither. I was at a crossroads and I needed to pick a direction. North. South. East. West. I needed to pick a direction.

For the time being, I chose the direction of home. Home was my safe place, the place I could go that was free of judgment. Once I got there, I had no idea which route I would take. In that moment, as I stood on the subway platform waiting for my train, it didn't matter. What mattered was my wonderful date with Kurt and our almost kiss. Nothing else was relevant in that moment.


End file.
